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cheers-to-you-th · 2 months ago

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Even Dumbasses Deserve Love

Pairing: Yoon Jeonghan x reader

Genre: Fluff, f2l, angst if you squint, smut !MDNI!

Warnings: Jeonghan being an idiot, oral (f receiving), dry humping, unprotected sex (don't do it yall), multiple orgasms, let me know if I missed anything

Summary: Yoon Jeonghan, your beautiful, wonderful, amazing, dumb-ass of a best friend who somehow doesn't see how hopelessly in love with him you are.

Until he does.

Banner by @orngejuic Beta Readers: @gyubakeries @sanaxo-o @mylovesstuffs ily guys <3

Taglist: @syluslittlecrows @cynthbee

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Jeonghan prides himself in being two steps ahead of everyone. It’s just how he is—how he operates. He reads people easily, anticipates what they’ll do before they can even think it themselves. It’s why he always wins petty bets, why he always manages to dodge responsibility, why he can talk his way out of anything with nothing more than a lazy smile. He sees the signs before they become obvious, notices the smallest shifts in expression, the tiniest changes in behavior.

That’s why, after knowing you for years, Jeonghan finds himself baffled. The first time he notices something is when you sit in your normal seat next to him before your lecture starts, sliding a coffee in front of him. It’s something you do so often that it barely registers—until Seokmin starts to complain.

“Where’s mine?” Seokmin whines, dramatically slumping against the table. “Why does Jeonghan always get special treatment? I like coffee too, you know.”

You scoff, sipping from your own cup without a second thought. “You have two legs, Kyeom, use them.”

Seokmin pouts, muttering something about Jeonghan’s legs and injustice, but Jeonghan barely hears him. Because for the first time, he’s thinking about what Seokmin had said. You always bring him coffee. Always. Even when you’re running late, even when you don’t get one for yourself. Even when you grumble about how he doesn’t deserve it.

He lifts the cup, staring at the little details he’s never bothered to notice before. The way his name is scrawled across the side in your handwriting instead of the barista’s. The way you always get it exactly how he likes—two sugars, just enough milk to take the edge off the bitterness. The way you don’t even wait for a thank you.

Like it’s second nature. Like it’s just… what you do.

And now, he can’t stop thinking about it.

He starts noticing other things during the lecture.

How you always roll your eyes when he leans against you, but never actually push him away. How you scold him for doodling on the margins of your notebook, but still let him get away with it every time. How you look at him when you think he isn’t paying attention.

It makes something shift in his brain—tilting, twisting, catching on a thought he’s somehow never had before.

And maybe that should be the end of it.

But it isn’t.

Not yet.

Because a week later, it happens again.

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It’s late—too late for you to be waiting around for him, but you do anyway. The library is nearly empty, the last stragglers packing up as Jeonghan stretches his arms over his head with a groan.

“Finally done?” you ask, voice amused as you glance up from your phone. You’re already leaning against the table, your bag slung over your shoulder, like you’ve been waiting for him this whole time.

Because you have.

Jeonghan blinks. He hadn’t asked you to. Hadn’t even considered it. He just assumed you’d gone home when you finished hours ago. But you didn’t—you stayed.

“Why are you still here?” he asks, narrowing his eyes. “I thought you said you were leaving at nine.”

You shrug. “Changed my mind.”

Changed your mind.

Jeonghan frowns but doesn’t push further. Because now, he’s thinking about it again.

About the way you always are there whenever he needs you, about how you never actually leave until he does. About how, even when you complain about him, you’re still here.

Always here, waiting for him.

His stomach twists with something unfamiliar. Something that feels a little too warm, a little too close to something he isn’t ready to name. He follows you into the cold night air, his hands stuffed in his pockets. His thoughts are too loud, too disorganized, for him to focus.

And when you shiver beside him, he doesn’t even think—he just shrugs off his hoodie and tugs it over your head before you can protest.

You freeze, blinking up at him. “What—”

“Just wear it,” Jeonghan mutters, looking away.

And maybe, if he let himself think too hard about why he did that—why the sight of you in his hoodie makes something tighten in his chest—he’d realize he’s in way more trouble than he thought.

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The next time, it’s at a party.

Jeonghan isn’t even sure why he came—probably because Mingyu wouldn’t stop nagging him about needing to ‘go out and touch grass,’ whatever that means. The music is loud, the room packed with people, and Jeonghan, as usual, is lounging in the corner with a drink in hand, thoroughly entertained by the mess unfolding around him.

Then he sees you.

You’re talking to someone—some guy he doesn’t recognize, who’s standing a little too close, leaning in a little too much. You don’t seem bothered at a glance, but Jeonghan notices the way your fingers tighten around your cup, the slight shift in your stance. It’s subtle, something no one else would catch. But he does. He sees the tightness in your smile and the way you recoil when the man touches your arm.

Before Jeonghan can think twice, he’s already moving.

He slides up next to you easily, arm slinging around your shoulders like it belongs there, like it’s second nature. “There you are,” he drawls, flashing his most infuriating smile as he pointedly ignores the guy in front of you. “Been looking for you everywhere.”

You blink up at him, startled for only a second before you relax against him, leaning into his hold like it’s instinct.

The guy shifts awkwardly. “Oh, I didn’t realize you were—”

Jeonghan tilts his head, still smiling. He doesn’t say anything, just lets the weight of unspoken words hang in the air until the guy gets the message and quickly excuses himself.

Once he’s gone, Jeonghan glances down at you, raising a brow. “You okay?”

You let out a breath, rolling your eyes. “I was handling it.”

“I know.” He shrugs, arm still around you, still holding you close. “Felt like bothering you anyway.”

You huff, but you don’t pull away.

And then it hits him again.

The way you always let him do this—let him close, let him linger. The way you lean into him, like you belong there. The way it feels so natural that he doesn’t realize he's still holding onto you until his fingers tighten slightly on your shoulder.

Something warm twists in his chest.

He should let go. He should step back.

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Another day, it’s at lunch.

Jeonghan doesn’t think much when you slide into the seat across from him, tray in hand, like you always do. He barely glances up from his phone as you start picking at your food, the conversation around you blending into background noise.

Then you do something that makes his fingers still over his screen. You push the cucumbers off his plate. It’s so natural, so absentminded, that you don’t even seem to notice yourself doing it. Just a quick movement, the same way you always do.

Jeonghan stares at his plate, where the cucumbers had been only seconds ago, now neatly placed onto yours without a word. He glances up at you, but you’re still focused on your meal, completely unbothered, like this is just… normal.

He thinks back—tries to remember when this started. When you figured out he didn’t like cucumbers. When you decided, without being asked, to take them off his plate every single time.

Jeonghan swallows.

“Are you gonna eat that?” you ask suddenly, pointing at the bread roll on his tray.

He blinks, momentarily caught off guard before scoffing. “At least let me offer before you start eyeing my food.”

You roll your eyes, reaching over to grab it anyway. “Please, you were gonna give it to me either way.”

He doesn’t argue. Because you’re right. He always does.

And now, as you tear off a piece of the bread and pop it into your mouth without thinking, Jeonghan can’t help but notice the way this has all become a habit. The way there are things you do for him without question. The way there are things he does for you, too.

Jeonghan exhales, poking at the rest of his food, but suddenly, it doesn’t taste the same.

Because now, he’s thinking about it again.

Thinking about what makes you act like this.

But he doesn’t ask.

Not yet.

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The next instance is in the rain.

Jeonghan had told you to go home before the storm hit, rolled his eyes when you stubbornly refused– insisting you’d be fine– until he finally managed to convince you. And now, standing under the awning of a closed convenience store, watching the rain pour down in sheets, he’s debating whether he should call you just to say, “I told you so.”

Then his phone buzzes.

You: are you still at the library?

Jeonghan frowns, quickly typing back.

Jeonghan: no, at the convenience store across from it, dorm ran out of soju You: don’t leave yet. I’m coming to get you.

He stares at the screen, brow furrowing. You’re coming to get him?

It takes you fifteen minutes.

Fifteen minutes of Jeonghan watching the rain fall, of tapping his fingers against his phone, of wondering—really wondering—why you’re doing this.

And then you’re there, pulling up to the curb with your hazard lights flashing, hair slightly damp from the short sprint to your car. You barely give him a chance to react before you’re unlocking the door, waving him in.

“Hurry up,” you say, like this is normal. Like it’s nothing. Like you haven’t just driven across town in the middle of a downpour for him.

Jeonghan slides into the passenger seat, dripping water onto your floor mats. He doesn’t speak at first, just watches you as you reach into the backseat and pull out a towel.

You toss it at him without looking, focused on pulling back into traffic. “Dry your hair before you get sick.”

Jeonghan stares at the towel, then at you. “Did you—”

“I always keep one in my car,” you interrupt, as if reading his mind. “For emergencies.”

He huffs out a quiet laugh, rubbing the towel over his damp hair. “So, I’m an emergency now?”

“You’re definitely something.” You shake your head, smiling to yourself. “I don’t know why I bother with you.”

But you do.

You do, every single time.

You didn’t have to come get him. You didn’t have to wait for him at the library, or bring him coffee every morning, or let him cling to you at parties without question.

And yet, here you are.

Jeonghan exhales, pressing his lips together, fingers tightening around the towel in his lap.

His chest feels warm again. Too warm.

He should say something. Should tease you, should make some dumb joke to brush this off like he always does.

But for the first time, he doesn’t.

For the first time, he just sits there, watching you drive, heart pounding against his ribs.

But he doesn’t want to think about how you make him feel.

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The worst time is when he’s sick.

Jeonghan rarely gets sick. He prides himself on that, actually—on having an immune system strong enough to withstand whatever hell Mingyu’s cooking experiments unleash upon their friend group. But now, he’s curled up in bed, utterly miserable, his head pounding and his throat raw.

He doesn’t remember texting you. He’s not even sure if he did. But somehow, you’re there.

The knock on his door barely registers, his brain foggy with fever, but then you’re pushing it open, arms full—plastic bags rustling, a familiar frown on your lips.

“Yah,” you scold immediately, setting everything down on his desk before walking over to him. “Why didn’t you tell me you were dying?”

Jeonghan groans, burying his face in his pillow. “Not dying.”

“You sound like you swallowed glass.” You reach out, pressing the back of your hand to his forehead before he can stop you. Your skin is cool against his overheated skin, and it makes him shiver.

You frown deeper. “You’re burning up.”

“I’ll live,” he mutters, voice hoarse.

You click your tongue but don’t argue, instead moving back to the desk, unpacking the bags you brought. Jeonghan watches through half-lidded eyes as you pull out medicine, a bottle of his favorite drink, a container of porridge, and— he freezes, heart stuttering.

You brought the exact brand of honey lemon lozenges he likes. The ones he always complains are overpriced but still buys anyway. His fingers twitch where they rest against his blanket.

“How’d you—” He stops to clear his throat. “You remembered?”

You glance at him, raising a brow. “Of course I did.”

You say it like it’s obvious, as if he’s the weird one for even questioning it. Jeonghan doesn’t know what to say to that, so he stays quiet, watching as you pour medicine into the cap and hold it out expectantly.

He doesn’t complain. Doesn’t make a fuss like he normally would.

He just sits up, takes the medicine, and lets you take care of him.

And this time, he doesn’t try to push the warmth in his chest away, choosing instead to bask in your care, pretending it means more than it does.

But he doesn’t admit that.

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The next time Jeonghan notices it, really notices it, is a week later.

You don’t know it’s happening (not that you ever do). Don’t notice that he’s staring at you from across the table, barely registering Seungcheol’s story about some girl who ghosted him after three dates. Don’t know that something in his brain is shifting—catching on a thought that’s finally fully formed.

He watches the way you laugh at something Mingyu says, how your nose scrunches slightly when you sip your too-sweet drink. Watches the way you lean back in your chair, rolling your eyes at something dumb he said earlier.

He thinks about how easily you fit next to him. How you always have.

And then it hits him.

A slow-burning realization that should’ve hit him years ago.

The reason you always let him steal your food even when you pretend to be annoyed. The reason you text him good morning when you know he won’t wake up until noon. The reason you never let him get away with his bullshit but still let him stay, no matter how insufferable he is.

The reason you look at him sometimes like he’s the only person in the room, like you’d give him the world if he just asked.

The reason you always have.

His stomach flips.

Oh.

Jeonghan blinks. Swallows hard. Tries to ignore the sudden, inexplicable rush of warmth crawling up his neck. Because this—this—should not be happening. He’s Jeonghan. You’re you. His best friend. The one person who never falls for his tricks, never gets caught up in his nonsense.

Except… you do, don’t you?

And he’s been too blind—too stupid—to see it.

“Oh, shit,” Jeonghan mutters under his breath.

Mingyu pauses mid-bite, looking up. “Huh?”

Jeonghan forces a lazy smile, shaking his head. “Nothing.”

But it isn’t nothing.

It’s everything.

And Jeonghan—who has always prided himself on being two steps ahead of everyone else—has never been more terrified in his life because now, he can’t stop noticing.

It’s in the way you always save him a seat, even when the lecture hall is packed. The way you complain about his bad habits but never actually stop him. The way your fingers brush against his when you pass him something, lingering just a second longer than necessary.

It’s in the way he finds himself looking for you first in a crowded room, in the way his teasing has softened without him realizing, in the way his heart stumbles over itself when you laugh at something he says.

It’s in the way you listen to him—even when he’s talking absolute nonsense—nodding along like his words actually matter. The way you remember the smallest things, like how he hates cucumbers or how he always picks the sesame bagel first. The way you instinctively move closer when he nudges you, like it’s second nature, like you don’t even think about it.

And Jeonghan—who has always prided himself on knowing things before anyone else, on seeing things before they happen—is suddenly drowning in a realization that has been staring him in the face for years.

Because it’s not just you.

It’s him, too.

It’s the way he always shifts closer to you on instinct, the way his gaze flickers toward you the second you walk into a room. The way he lets his guard down without thinking, lets you see the parts of him that no one else does. The way he keeps finding excuses to be near you, even when he tells himself he’s not.

It’s the way his hoodie still hangs in your closet because you never gave it back—and he never asked for it. The way he’s memorized the exact rhythm of your footsteps when you walk beside him. The way he never thinks twice about sharing his food with you, even when he swats Seokmin’s hand away for trying the same thing.

The way his heart is racing right now, loud enough that he swears someone else must hear it.

He swallows hard, fingers tightening around his drink.

Because if all of this is true—if he’s been feeling this way without even knowing it—then that means everything has already changed. And he has no idea what to do about it.

Jeonghan feels like he can’t breathe. The noise of the hole-in-the-wall restaurant, the laughter, the clatter of plates—it all feels too loud, too much. His skin is buzzing, his thoughts spiraling, and before he can stop himself, he’s pushing back his chair and standing up.

No one really notices—Seungcheol is too caught up in his story, Mingyu is still chewing—but you do. Of course you do.

Jeonghan mutters something about fresh air and slips outside before anyone thinks to ask questions. The cool evening air hits him like a slap, sharp and grounding, but it does nothing to quiet the way his chest is tightening. He leans against the brick wall, pressing his palms against his eyes, trying to steady himself.

This isn’t happening. This can’t be happening.

The door swings open behind him.

“Jeonghan?”

Your voice is gentle, cautious.

He forces himself to relax, dropping his hands and looking at you with the most neutral expression he can manage. “What’s up?”

You step closer, studying him, your brows furrowing. “Are you okay?”

Jeonghan scoffs, shoving his hands into his pockets. “Why wouldn’t I be?”

You give him a look—the one that tells him you know he’s full of shit. “You just got up and walked out in the middle of a conversation. That’s not normal.”

He shrugs, shifting his weight. “I just needed some air.”

You don’t move. Don’t buy it for a second.

“Jeonghan.” Your voice is softer this time, almost hesitant. “What’s wrong?”

And he could lie– brush it off, smirk, make some dumb joke to change the subject. That’s what he always does. But for some reason, with you standing there, looking at him like that—like you care, like you’re waiting for the truth—he finds that he can’t.

So instead, Jeonghan exhales sharply, shakes his head and looks away. “I think I just realized something really, really big.”

You tilt your head. “What?”

He hesitates– opens his mouth, closes it.

Then—

“It’s nothing,” he says, too quickly. Forces a smirk, even though it doesn’t quite reach his eyes. “Come on, let’s go back before Mingyu eats all my fries.”

You watch him for a moment longer, and he wonders if you can see through him, if you can hear all the things he isn’t saying.

But then, finally, you sigh. “You’re acting weird.”

Jeonghan laughs, bumping his shoulder against yours as he steers you back inside. “I’m always weird.”

You roll your eyes but let him pull you along. And Jeonghan?

Jeonghan wonders if he’s just made the biggest mistake of his life.

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He tells himself it’s fine. Tells himself it was just a weird moment, a fleeting thought, something he can push down and forget about if he just acts normal.

So that’s what he does.

For the next few days, he’s careful– not staring too long when you talk, not lingering when you walk beside him. He keeps things exactly the same—laughs at your complaints, steals your food, teases you like he always has.

But he can’t unsee it now.

Can’t unfeel the way his heart stutters when you smile at him. The way his skin burns when your arm brushes his. He finds himself watching you when you aren’t looking, cataloging all the little things about you that he somehow never realized were his favorite things.

Worst of all—he can’t unsee the way you look at him.

Because now that he’s noticed, he knows.

You’ve always been looking at him like that.

And now it’s killing him.

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It all comes to a head one night when you’re at Seungcheol’s place for a movie night. The room is dim, the couch too crowded, so you end up sitting on the floor between Jeonghan’s legs. It’s normal. You’ve done it a hundred times before.

But tonight, Jeonghan feels every shift, every time you lean against him. Your shoulder against his knee. Your head tilted back against his leg when you laugh at something on the screen. The warmth of you, right there, so close, so easy.

And then—because the universe is cruel—you grab his hand absentmindedly, just to play with his fingers like you always do when you’re fidgeting. But this time, Jeonghan’s entire world tilts on its axis. His breath catches, heart lurches.

And suddenly, all he can think is—I’m so fucked.

He doesn’t know how long he sits there, staring at your hand in his, feeling the slow, absentminded way your fingers trace along his knuckles. It’s nothing.

Except it isn’t because now he knows, and knowing makes it unbearable. So he does the only thing he can think of: he pulls his hand away and stands up.

Too fast. Too abrupt.

You blink, looking up at him in confusion as he mumbles something—some excuse that even he knows doesn’t make sense—and makes a beeline for the door. He barely hears the others calling after him, barely registers the cool night air as he steps outside, pressing a hand to his chest like he can physically push down whatever the hell is clawing its way up his throat.

This can’t be happening.

He can’t be acting like this.

But it is, he is.

And then—

The door creaks open behind him.

“Jeonghan?”

Your voice. Soft, uncertain.

He squeezes his eyes shut for a second before forcing a smile and turning around. “Yeah?”

You step closer, arms crossed against the cold. “You’ve been… off these last few days. Seriously, what’s wrong?”

“Nothing.” Too quick. Too easy. A lie, and you know it.

You frown, chastising him, “Jeonghan.”

And the way you say his name—like you know him too well, like you can see straight through him—makes his stomach flip. He exhales slowly, running a hand through his hair. “I just needed some space.”

You study him, searching his face like you’re piecing together a puzzle only he knows the answer to. “Did I do something?” Your voice is quiet, hesitant, like the idea of hurting him actually hurts you. It almost makes him want to laugh because God, you have no idea.

“No,” he says, too soft, too real. “You didn’t do anything.”

You don’t look convinced, but you don’t push. Instead, you step closer, tilting your head. “Then what is it? I’m worried about you.”

Jeonghan looks at you—the way your brows furrow, the way your lips press together, the way you’re always standing too close but it never mattered until now. He opens his mouth to say something—anything—to push this moment away, to pretend like it’s just another weird, fleeting feeling. But then he looks at you, really looks at you.

Your eyes, wide and trusting, waiting for him to say something that will make sense of whatever the hell happened in there. He takes a step forward, slowly, almost reluctantly, like his body is moving on its own. His arms wrap around you on instinct, like muscle memory, like habit. But when his face finds the crook of your neck and you rub soothing circles into his back, it doesn’t feel like a habit at all. It feels like something else entirely.

Jeonghan pulls back slightly, his hands still lingering on your arms, as if trying to ground himself. The air between you is thick with unspoken words, and he knows he can’t run from it any longer. His heart is beating fast, and he finally asks, his voice tentative, “Do you... do you like me?”

You blink, the question catching you off guard. He’s asked you this before, often asking “what about me” whenever anyone compliments another person. For a moment, it feels like time has paused. He’s looking at you with this vulnerability, this rawness, and it’s both terrifying and comforting at the same time.

“Of course I like you, you’re my best friend.”

Jeonghan’s chest tightens at your words, and his breath catches in his throat. It’s not the answer he was hoping for, not exactly, but he’s not sure what he was expecting either. His heart sinks a little. He didn’t know what kind of answer he wanted, but this... wasn’t it.

“I—yeah, I know,” he says quickly, rubbing a hand over his face, clearly frustrated with himself. He doesn’t know why he feels so nervous now, why it’s suddenly harder to breathe. “But I mean... do you like me more than that? Like, in a way that’s not just... like that?”

There’s a pause as you look at him, and he can’t read your expression, can’t tell if you’re confused or just processing. But your eyes soften as you take in the question.

You tilt your head, trying to make sense of it. “Wait... are you asking if I like you like you?”

Jeonghan nods, a bit sheepish, unable to hide the vulnerability on his face now. “Yeah,” he mutters. “Have I been reading the signals wrong? Am I more than just...do you see me the way I see you?”

For a moment, you don’t say anything. The silence stretches, and Jeonghan feels his heart racing, anxiety curling in his stomach. He regrets even asking, but he can’t bring himself to back out now. Finally, you take a step closer, a smile tugging at your lips, though it’s a little teasing. “And what if I do?”

The words hit him harder than he expected, and for a moment, Jeonghan just stands there, blinking at you, his mind scrambling to catch up. He wasn’t ready for that answer. He wasn’t prepared for the shift in the air between you.

“Well,” he says, frowning. “Do you?”

You laugh softly, but there’s no mocking in it, just warmth. “I think you’re a little slow, Jeonghan. I don’t know how much more obvious I could’ve been. I’ve liked you for years.”

Jeonghan’s breath catches, and for a split second, he feels lightheaded, overwhelmed by the sudden clarity. His heart thuds in his chest as you step closer, and there’s a quiet intensity in your gaze that makes everything feel like it’s falling into place.

“You...” He’s still struggling to get the words out, his mind still spinning, but this time, it’s not confusion that’s holding him back. It’s something else entirely. “I didn’t know.”

You smile again, shaking your head and stepping just a little closer until there’s barely any space between you. “Well, I wasn’t exactly going to say it first, was I?” you tease, but there’s something deeper in your voice now. “You’ve been my best friend for how long now? I’ve seen you turn down hundreds of women.”

Jeonghan reaches out, his hands trembling just slightly as he gently cups your face in his palms, searching your eyes for any hint of doubt. “But... you’re different.” He whispers, his voice low but steady.

You lean into his touch, your eyes never leaving his. “Am I?”

He nods and you smile, causing warmth to spread across his chest. “What does this mean?” He asks hesitantly. Sure he’s been in plenty of relationships before, but he didn’t care about any of them like he cares about you because, like he said, you’re different.

“It means you’re an idiot for taking this long,” you say with a grin. “But it also means I don’t have to wait anymore.”

Before he can say another word, you close the space between you, your lips meeting his in a soft, slow kiss. It wasn’t urgent. There’s no rush, no pushing– just the slow pull of two people who had been waiting for this moment for far too long. Your lips are gentle, testing at first, as if asking for permission. And he gives it, deepening the kiss with a quiet intensity as your fingers thread through his hair, pulling him closer.

The kiss feels like a quiet promise, an unspoken exchange of everything you’ve never said. Your lips part, and he follows, the kiss turning softer, more tender as he tries to memorize every inch of you. He cups your cheek as if you’re something delicate, something worth protecting. Because you are.

It feels like time is suspended, like there's nothing else but the warmth of your mouths, the softness of your hands. Every part of him is alive with sensation, heart racing faster with each passing moment. He can feel your pulse, too—faster now, matching his.

When you finally pull back, your foreheads rest together, both of you smiling, hearts racing.

“How did you put up with me? I was such an idiot.” Jeonghan says softly, his voice full of affection, but also amusement.

You laugh, your fingers tracing his jawline. “Nothing out of the ordinary. And hey, even dumbasses deserve love.” You say, giving him a peck on the lips.

The sound of a door creaking open behind you breaks the moment, and you pull away reluctantly, both of you still close, but now acutely aware that you’re no longer alone. The sound of Seungcheol’s voice filters through the hallway. “Hey! You two coming back in or what? We need someone to help pick the next movie!”

You glance at Jeonghan, both of you smiling, the weight of the world feeling just a little lighter now. He laughs quietly, rubbing the back of his neck as he looks at you, a bit sheepish.

“Guess we should probably... go back,” you say with a grin.

He nods, still unable to wipe the smile off his face. “Probably, yeah. Or we could go over to my place instead?”

You just laugh, shaking your head, “Maybe next time, loverboy,” you say, dragging him back to the living room, this time snuggling up next to him under a blanket. Your hand rests on his thigh, trancing slow patterns absentmindedly onto the skin and making a shiver go down his back. It’s not the first time you’ve done this–heck you were fidgeting with his hand before he left–but this time is different. Because now you both know. Jeonghan tries his best to focus on the movie, he really does, but all he can think about is the softness of your lips on his, the way you tugged at his hair when he licked into your mouth, the way your hand feels so good as it squeezes his thigh.

Nope.

Nope nope nope nope nope.

He grabs your hand, flipping it up to interlock his fingers with yours because he is not about to get hard. You gently squeeze his hand, resting your head on his shoulder. He’s hyper-aware of how your hand slots perfectly with his, how you fling your legs over his own. When he glances over at you and sees a mischievous glint in your eye so often found in his, he knows he’s screwed.

And god does he love it.

It’s a running joke between your friends that Jeonghan can never last more than two hours, whether it’s drinking, socializing, or partying, after two hours Jeonghan will clock out. He manages to make it through three hours of your teasing as the movie plays in the background. He doesn’t know what's happening in the movie, and quite frankly, couldn’t give any less of a fuck. Not when he’s endured your breath ghosting over his neck, your weight shifting on him slightly too much for it to be innocent, for three. Whole. Hours.

Yawning and pretending to stretch when the movie is paused for a bathroom break, he stands up, allowing the blanket to fall from his lap and enjoying your complaint at the sudden cold.

“Alright,” Jeonghan announces, rubbing at his eyes dramatically. “I think that’s my cue to head out.”

A chorus of groans follows. “Dude, the movie isn’t even over,” Minghao complains, arms crossed.

“You do this every time,” Jihoon adds, unimpressed.

Jeonghan sighs. “It’s not even that good.”

“Bro, it’s nominated for like, five academy awards.” Vernon guffaws.

Jeonghan shrugs, entirely unbothered.

You roll your eyes but don’t move from your spot on the couch. “You’re so predictable.”

He hums, tilting his head at you. “I’m consistent, there’s a difference.” He grabs your hand, attempting to tug you up. “Come on, let’s go.”

You blink at him, feigning innocence. “Where am I going?”

“Home. With me. So we can escape these idiots. Duh.”

A pillow flies in Jeonghan’s direction, courtesy of Seungkwan. “We can still hear you, dipshit.”

Jeonghan easily dodges it before turning back to you with a grin. “Come on.”

You stretch your arms over your head and settle deeper into the couch, smirking at him. “I think I’ll stay.”

Jeonghan stares at you like you’ve just betrayed him. “But who’s going to drive me home?” He pulls his lips into a pout.

“I guess you’ll have to take the bus,” you drag out, watching the way his face scrunches in displeasure, “I want to finish the movie.”

Jeonghan narrows his eyes at you, crouching slightly to be level with your gaze. “But you don’t even care about the movie.”

You shrug. “Apparently it’s nominated for whatever Vernon said. Very interesting stuff.”

“Unbelievable,” he mutters under his breath. He drops onto his knees in front of you, leaning against the couch as he complains. “But I wanna go home.”

You raise an eyebrow. “Then go?”

His hand wraps around your wrist, tugging you slightly forward. “Not without you.”

“Jeonghan,” you warn, but it holds no real bite.

He whines, a real, genuine whine that has Jihoon groaning in disgust in the background before tugging you forward to whisper in your ear. “I don’t want to be here anymore. I want to be with you. Alone. Where I don’t have to share you with all these people.”

You fight a smile. “Wow, I never knew you were so clingy.”

He glares up at you, pout still prominent. “Only for you.”

There’s a beat of silence before you sigh dramatically, running a hand through your hair. “Ugh, fine.”

Jeonghan perks up immediately, eyes glimmering with victory. “Nice!”

You shove at his forehead lightly. “God, you’re so annoying.”

“And yet, you’re still coming with me,” he sing-songs, standing up and holding out a hand.

You take it begrudgingly, rolling your eyes when he laces your fingers together smugly.

“Bye, quitters,” Seungkwan calls out, voice dripping with sarcasm.

Jeonghan doesn’t even spare him a glance, tugging you toward the door with a satisfied grin.

✧✦✧✦✧✦✧✦✧✦✧✦✧✦✧✦✧✦✧✦✧✦✧✦✧✦✧✦✧✦✧✦✧✦✧✦✧✦✧

Jeonghan is not used to being the one squirming, yet here he is, sitting in your passenger seat, fingers twitching against his knee, fighting the urge to run his tongue over his bottom lip, needing something to do.

He’s been watching you for the past fifteen minutes, the way your hands flex on the wheel, the way your brows furrow slightly whenever he shifts in his seat. You’re pretending to be unaffected, as if his presence this close—his breath practically in your space, his eyes raking over you like he’s memorizing every detail—does nothing to you.

It’s almost convincing. Almost.

But Jeonghan knows you too well.

He wonders if you can feel the weight of his gaze as he studies you, cataloging every flicker of your expression, every little movement. The way your lips part slightly when you exhale, the way you press your tongue to the inside of your cheek when the traffic slows.

You’re gripping the steering wheel tighter than necessary. It makes him smirk.

“You’re staring,” you say, voice clipped.

“Am I not allowed?” he asks, all feigned innocence. He props his chin up on his hand, leaning toward you just slightly, just enough to feel the tension coil even tighter between you.

He watches your fingers tighten just a little more. You don’t look at him. He grins.

“Thought so,” he murmurs, just to be annoying.

You exhale sharply through your nose. “Maybe if you weren’t looking at me like that, it’d be easier.”

“Like what? I’m just looking at my beautiful best friend who happens to be madly in love with me.”

You scoff, shooting him a pointed look, but he just smiles at you, that cute smile he always does when he’s being the picture perfect image of innocence.

He shifts in his seat, lets his hand fall casually onto your thigh. The reaction is instant—your muscles tense, just for a second, but he notices. He always does.

You don’t shove him off. You don’t even flinch. He lets his thumb move, tracing small, slow circles against the fabric of your jeans. Not enough to be obvious, but enough to be felt. Enough to make you react.

“Jeonghan,” you warn.

He hums, fingers pressing just a little firmer. “What?”

“You’re distracting me.”

He exhales a quiet laugh. “Wonder what that must be like.” He muses.

The car slows to a stop at a red light, and for the first time, you turn to face him fully. Your eyes meet his, and god, it’s enough to make his stomach twist. There’s a challenge there, a silent push and pull that makes Jeonghan wonder who’s going to break first.

Just as he’s about to push further, you grab his wrist.For a brief moment he worries that he’s gone too far, made you uncomfortable enough to shove him off, but you don’t. Instead you just turn his hand upwards to intertwine your fingers the way he did before.

“Behave,” you say simply.

And then you’re driving again, like nothing happened.

Jeonghan blinks. His mouth parts slightly, caught somewhere between shock and amusement, and he lets out a quiet chuckle, leaning back into his seat. His knee bounces slightly—he hates how much you affect him. (No, he doesn’t.)"

✧✦✧✦✧✦✧✦✧✦✧✦✧✦✧✦✧✦✧✦✧✦✧✦✧✦✧✦✧✦✧✦✧✦✧✦✧✦✧

As soon as his apartment door closes, your mouth is on Jeonghan’s. Your lips move urgently against his as he smiles into the kiss. When you tilt his chin to deepen it, pushing your tongue into his mouth, he makes a sound he didn’t know he was capable of– something between a whimper and a groan that screamed neediness.

“Angel,” He whines against your lips, hands running up and down your body as he pushes you harder against the door, slotting a leg between your thighs. Your fingers tug at his hair deliciously, soft lips contrasting the way they devour him. You grind against his thigh, sighing at the friction,your hands trailing down his body to tug at his shirt. You break apart so he can tug his shirt off, your hands leaving goosebumps as they trail across the newly exposed skin.

You break the kiss, trailing kisses across his jaw and down his neck, sucking marks onto his collarbone that have his mind reeling, “Please,” His hands squeeze your waist tighter, he doesn’t even know what he’s asking for anymore, all he knows is that he needs more; more of your touch, your lips, your smell, you, you, you.

You smile against his skin, your breath making him shiver as it fans across the wet patch of skin you had been ravishing, “Aww, Hannie,” you coo, “are you getting impatient baby?” Your hips grind into his thigh again and he lets out a shaky breath.

Witchcraft, he decides, is the only explanation to whatever spell you have him under. He nods frantically, hips involuntarily thrusting forward when you chuckle, lifting your face back up to his. The look in your eyes is a cross between adoring and down right evil as you kiss his lips languidly before moving towards his ear, “Think about how I’ve felt all this time.”

The whispered words get lost in his soft groans as you continue to kiss him, grinding harder on him and whimpering against his skin. Suddenly you’re pushing him, not separating your lips as you force him to walk backwards. You know his apartment like the back of your hand– even helped him unpack his moving boxes when he first bought it– so it’s no surprise that you lead him to the bedroom without a hitch, clothes falling off somewhere along the way until you’re standing in front of him, clad in a white set that-

Wow.

If Aphrodite exists, you must be blessed by her, he thinks (not wanting to eternally damn you by saying you rival her beauty—although he definitely wouldn’t say you don’t). The lace hugs your curves perfectly, small bows accentuating every beautiful—fuck, he doesn’t even know what he’s thinking anymore because you just look that good. Jeonghan doesn’t even realize he’s reaching for you, hands hovering in the air between you as if he's scared you’ll disappear if he touches you.

You reach out your hand to intertwine your fingers with his, pushing until he falls back onto the bed before climbing on top of him. You thread your fingers through his hair as you straddle him, kissing him slowly, grinding against his hardness through his boxers. The feeling has his eyes closing, needy groans escaping his lips before he can stop them.

“My pretty baby,” you whisper against his lips, hands tugging in his hair to give you access to his throat again, licking and sucking marks in ways that have his back arching off the bed. Your hands run up and down his torso, hips grinding harder against his prompting a string of curses to escape him as he grabs your hips—to stop you or push you against him more, he doesn’t know. “So needy for me, huh? Who knew that behind your teasing facade you were really just a brat?”

Does Jeonghan have a degradation kink? He didn’t think so until this moment, when his hips buck into yours involuntarily with a whine. “Angel, please, I—I need you.” He practically sobs when you start to climb off him, settling yourself on the bed and spreading your legs open. Jeonghan rushes towards you, breath catching in his throat at the sight of a damp spot in the center of your panties.

He settles himself between your legs, leaving marks on your inner thigh before nuzzling himself against your covered core. The sound of your breath hitching makes him chuckle as he presses a wet kiss directly over the damp fabric, “And you said I was needy.” He mutters, bringing a hand up to slide your panties to the side of your corce, practically drooling at the clear string of liquid that connects them. Unable to help himself, he licks at your entrance lightly, humming at the taste and the way your legs quiver next to him.

“You’re lucky I love you because if there’s one thing you were right about, it's that I am a tease. But tonight?” Jeonghan starts rubbing slow circles over your clit, “Tonight, I’m going to have you shaking under me.” With that, he rids you of your underwear completely before diving into your heat. Your hands once again shoot to his hair, pushing his face further against you as he eats your pussy like it’s his last meal on death row.

“Shit, Hannie, nggh.” You whine above him, moans getting higher in pitch as he takes your clit into his mouth, sucking harshly, “Fingers, please– fuck, please.” He isn’t one to deny you when you beg so cutely for him, reveling in the way your pussy practically sucks his finger in. He can feel how tight your walls are, slipping another finger in with ease because of how wet you’ve gotten. All for him. He curves his fingers into a spongy spot that has your back arching off the bed, proceeding to target the spot while attacking your clit with his tongue. The sounds coming from above him is music to his ears, all of his senses taken over by you as he feels you break around him. He doesn’t stop, drinking your juices and bringing you to another high just as quickly, until you’re quivering around him.

He slows down, not stopping but giving you time to catch your breath when you pull him away, bringing his lips back up to yours, not caring that you can taste yourself on his lips. You make quick work of your bra, throwing it to the side somewhere and Jeonghan can’t help but ogle. He sits up, dragging his hands up your bare body and resting them just below the swell of your chest. Slowly, he connects his lips to the skin, closing his eyes as one hand goes to fondle the other. Your hips start moving against his again, sweet moans coming from both of you. Eventually you push him back to the bed so you can appreciate the sight of Jeonghan, face flushed, hair splayed across the pillow behind him, lips parted.

With each rock of your hips, Jeonghan moans louder. Your movements get faster and faster, and so do Jeonghan's moans, the whimpers only making you need him more.

He can hardly stand it, gripping your hips as tight as he can, trying to hold himself back, but the pressure feels so good, and you look so angelic as you rub your bare pussy against him.

You grab his hair and pull his head back. "Fuck," he chokes, looking down at where you're grinding against him. You feel his cock twitch inside his pants, and switch your pace to a quicker rhythm, grinding harder as Jeonghan's eyes darken under you.

He grabs your hips tightly, goes still, and lets out a low whine. You feel his hips jolt beneath you, and you pause. His face is flushed a deep pink all the way to his neck.

You stare in disbelief. Jeonghan hides his face in your neck, holding your body close. You look beneath you, a dark spot forming in Jeonghan's boxers.

"Aw, Hannie," you pull his face from your neck, looking him in the eyes. "My sweet, sweet Hannie." You smile and kiss him slowly, full of adoration and love. You kiss down his neck, making way towards his dick before finally sliding onto your knees on the floor between Jeonghan's legs. You press a kiss to the wet spot in his boxers, looking him directly in the eyes as you do, and feeling him twitch against your lips.

You gently pull his cock out of his underwear, shocked to see him covered in his own cum. He twitches at the contact, sensitive.

"Fuck, you’re perfect."

You teasingly stroke his length and watch him twitch when your thumb runs over the tip. “Please,” he looks up at you through his lashes, pleading, "I need you."

Those words are all you need to hear before planting your legs on either side of him, reaching between your bodies and wrapping your hand around Jeonghan's length. You glide the tip along your entrance, soaking him in your arousal before lowering your hips to slide him inside you. Loud moans escape both of you at the sensation of him filling you. He says your name like a prayer, hands rubbing circles on your hips, not knowing if it’s to ground you or himself. You slowly lift yourself up before sitting back down quickly, loving the way Jeonghan’s head falls to the side. "Shit, pretty. So perfect for me, god."

His grip on your hips gets tighter as you pick up speed, your pussy squeezing around him as if it never wants to let him go. All thoughts are wiped from his brain when you start kissing him through moans, whispering in his ear about how good it feels, how much you love him. He can feel you getting closer, your cunt pulsating with every roll of your hips. He brings a hand to your clit, starting to rub circles when you break, bringing him over the edge with you.

Your body collapses over Jeonghan's, shaking slightly as you come down from your high. Although he’s not in a much better state, he flips you onto your back, slipping out of you despite your protests and appreciating the way his cum drips out of your hole. He makes his way to the bathroom, grabbing a washcloth to clean you up a little until he notices you awkwardly waddling in after him. He’s unable to stop the laugh that bubbles in his chest, making you pout as you sit on the toilet to let the cum drain out of you.

Jeonghan leans over, pressing a sweet kiss to your lips, and he can’t help but notice how beautiful your smile is—how it lights up your face and his days.

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Epilogue:

Jeonghan doesn’t change. He still steals your food, still drapes himself over you like a cat when he’s tired, nuzzles into your shoulder and complains that you’re too warm when it’s his fault for climbing all over you in the first place. He still teases you mercilessly, grinning that lazy, adorable infuriating smile whenever you roll your eyes at him.

What’s changed is that now, you kiss him to shut him up. And Jeonghan—who spent so long hiding behind his charm, his easy confidence—doesn’t even try to stop you. If anything, he leans into it. Leans into you.

Now, on mornings before class, he walks in with you through the doors of the coffee shop, one arm wrapped around your shoulder as he complains about how early it is, burying his face in the side of your neck. He picks you up in the rain, stays late at the library with you, and drives you home—like it's second nature.

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mariasont · 11 months ago

Text

My Boss Won't Be Happy About This - A.H

a/n: back to bimbo brain rot!!!! inspired by the first season that one episode (you know the one) where hotch is all macho man with elle in jamaica

masterlist

₊˚ ✩°｡⋆♡ ⋆˙⟡♡ ⋆˙⟡♡⋆｡°✩˚₊‧

pairings: aaron hotchner x bimbo!assistant!reader

summary: you’re wrongfully arrested and hotch is not happy about it

warnings: creepy officer, inaccuracies of how law enforcement works, hotch being sexy

wc: 1.3k

"Listen I'm not the type of girl to tell someone how to do their job, but I just don't think you're doing it right."

You were speaking to an empty room, or at least, you were speaking to the mirror in front of you. It's the kind of mirror you had seen in countless interrogation scenes, the kind you usually image Hotch standing behind. You let your gaze linger, wondering if eyes are studying you from the other side, listening to your monologue.

"Well, that, and I also just don't think it's very nice." Your brand spanking new heels were tapping against the dirty floor.

You weren't happy about that. You weren't happy about any of this. Your feet ache, but the fear of the germs lurking on the floor paralyzes any thoughts of relief by removing your shoes.

"And hey, shouldn't I get a phone call? That's a rule, I think," you mumble, lips turning downward in an unusual frown. It seems like the right time for it. "My boss is not going to take this well. I mean, he's got this look, you know? The kind that makes you want to apologize for things you didn't even do."

You conjured up his daunting expression and released a jittery laugh, all while striving to disregard the biting cold blasting from the AC vent, which seemed determine to freeze you into place.

You were seriously out of your element, not just in surroundings but in dress--so form-fitting it left very little to the imagination. It seemed to be a good idea for a date. That was before you realized said date would be a complete disaster. Now, it felt like a trap. It had been a spectacle for a man unworthy of the effort, and as you sat in this rigid chair, you found yourself tugging at the hem every other moment, a futile attempt to preserve some semblance of modesty.

"So, when he hears about this little error... Well, let's just say I wouldn't want to be in your shoes." Six hours had passed in this dreary space, and you could feel your sanity fraying at the edges. You muttered, half to yourself, "Not that they're as cute as mine, but you get the point."

The door hinge's creak made you sit bolt upright, a silent supplication for Hotch's rescue echoing through your mind. But today, it seemed, the gods were indifferent. The officer who had arrested you stepped in.

"Having fun talking to yourself?"

You flashed your sweetest smile. "Oh, tons! But I'd have much more fun if you'd uncuff me."

He said nothing, folding his arms over his chest as he dragged his gaze up and down your body in a way that made your skin prickle in discomfort. You attempted to dispel the creeping dread, but it stubbornly lingered.

You did what you could to cover up, despite the awkward angle of your arms. "Listen, this is all just a big mistake. I work for the FBI," you insisted, though it was clear the officer's attention was fixated on your tits rather than your words. "Well, I mean, I'm an assistant for the unit chief of the BAU unit. You've heard of Aaron Hotchner, haven't you?"

The officer's mouth closed without a word, as the door was thrust open yet again, and this time, your heart leapt in recognition. Your knight in shining armor with a lethal expression.

His eyes instantly zeroed in on the officer with a look that could curdle blood, and you couldn't help but feel a sense of relief that you weren't the object of his anger. He approached you wordlessly, his every motion precise and determined.

He carefully shed his jacket, a gesture he seldom made, and draped it across your shoulders. The fleeting caress of his hand against your skin was enough to make you lean into his touch. You let out a breath that you had been unconsciously holding back.

You watched as Hotch turned, his voice a low, steady force, his words carefully chosen and tinged with an unsettling peace. "Officer," he began, the title spoken almost as warning. "I believe there has been a grave misunderstanding. This woman is not only an esteemed member of the FBI, but she is also under my direct supervision."

He stepped closer, encroaching on the officer's personal space. You watched, almost in slow motion, as the officer's expression morphed into one of sheer terror, his earlier confidence dissolving like sugar in hot tea.

"Six hours," he continued, his voice never rising yet somehow it took up all the space in the confined room. "Six hours of unwarranted detention, without due process. I expect her immediate release. And make no mistake, this lapse in judgment will have its ramifications."

The officer was mute, his fingers clumsily unlocking the handcuffs, his movements hurried, his hands trembling. A twinge of pity flickered within you, but it was quickly overshadowed by the memory of considering the table as a makeshift blanket.

The moment the metal clicked open; you wasted no time. You flung your arms around Hotch, the pent relief and biting chill of the past few hours pouring out of you. You were desperate for warmth, specifically his warmth.

He stiffened, caught off guard by your actions. You feel the anger radiating through him, practically pulsing through his skin. As you clung to him, you felt the draft on your legs as your dress slid up, and without missing a beat Hotch's hand discreetly adjusted the fabric, all while keeping his eyes locked on the officer, a silent warning in his gaze.

Once he was certain you were decently covered, he allowed himself to draw him into his arms. One arm secured around your waist, the other weaving through your hair. You were cold. It renewed another tide of rage through his bloodstream.

With the officer's departure, the room's oppressive atmosphere lightened a touch, leaving you still latched onto your boss.

"Oh, sir, you wouldn't believe it," you started, his hands tracing up your spine and sparking a trail of goosebumps that had nothing to do with the chill. "They kept asking me about a heist, as if I'd know anything about that! And then they show me this picture, and I mean, sure, she had my hair, but that's about it."

You rambled on, and he let you, the absurdity of the situation pouring out in a stream of consciousness. Hotch's hold on you tightened. You could sense the coiled tension in him, a tempest of anger held a bay.

"And the room, it was so cold! I mean, I'm sure you can tell. My teeth were chattering, and all I could think of was how I'd rather be filing your paperwork or listening to Reid's factoids about the quantum mechanics of coffee beans."

You felt Hotch's breath on your hair as he let out a sigh.

"I'm just glad you're here now," you whispered, finally allowing yourself to relax in his embrace.

Hotch gave a curt nod, his jaw set. He was itching to confront the officer, to unleash a tirade not meant for your ears. But he was well aware of how much you needed him right now, and that trumped everything in his book.

Hotch took a moment to compose himself before speaking. "This isn't just incompetence; it's negligence. I will have this place reevaluated for its standards, or lack thereof."

You took a step back, hands still resting on his arms, and he maintained his grip on your waist. "I bet this is the last time you'll let me go on a date without a full background check on the guy, huh, sir?"

Hotch's hold on your waist firmed just a fraction. "Maybe it's the last time I let you go on a date, period."

He was only half-joking.

"Not even with you?" You tilted your head to meet his gaze, drawing his jacket closer around you.

Hotch just simply gives you that look, the one that says a thousand words without a sound. He's telling you to tread lightly.

"Alright, I'll be good," you giggle, the tension easing from your shoulders. "Can you take me home now, please?"

He nods, "Yeah, let's get you home."

And then he leads you out, thinking to himself that the next person to take you out will be him, but that's for him to know and you to find out later.

taglist: @hotchhner @khxna

#aaron hotchner #aaron hotchner fluff #aaron hotchner x reader #aaron hotchner x fem reader #aaron hotchner x bimbo reader #aaron hotchner x bimbo!reader #hotch #aaron hotchner x you #aaron hotchner fic #hotchner #criminal minds #criminal minds fluff #Spotify

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tacticalprincess · 1 year ago

Note

how would konig react to reader getting jealous?? ps i love ur writing!!

jealousy is könig’s weakness. in his twisted brain, it’s one of the upmost proofs of devotion. you wouldn’t be this worked up if you didn’t truly care about him, and that thought makes his heart swell in his chest and his dick fill in his pants.

watching you pout and refuse to talk to him after he was oblivious to some civilian flirting with him— grazing her hand along his bicep, batting her eyelashes up at him— he would be so confused at first. he thought she was just thanking him for his service, why are you dragging him away now? it all clicks for him when you mutter “more like begging you to touch her cervix” and he can’t help but smile to himself. so you fear losing him just as much as he does you? (that may be a stretch, but he’ll choose to believe it.)

he loves the role reversal, it’s about time you get a taste of how he feels about you on a daily basis. the head rush it gives him to see you care about him so much is addicting. he’ll start purposefully putting himself in position to be flirted with, which is getting increasingly easier when he’s clad in all his military gear— unfortunately for you, women love freakishly tall masked men nowadays. the way you wrap yourself around him, making your presence known and staking your claim on him for everyone to see, makes him want to give you everything. he surrenders so easily, letting you drag him home and forgetting all about the faceless person he used to make you upset. you’re just so adorable and possessive when you’re jealous, he can’t take it seriously. it always ends the same; him comforting you, swearing he’ll never leave, as you bounce yourself silly on his broad lap.

“‘s my cock, right, köni? tell me it’s mine.”

“it’s yours, liebe. every inch.” his voice is wobbly and shaky with adoration, looking up at you like you hung the stars whilst you work yourself on his meaty, throbbing dick. gummy walls clenching him tightly, almost threatening. you’ll tell him no one could handle his fat cock expect for you, empty his heavy balls like you can, and he’ll go cross eyed, “die fraumeiner träume— fucking made for it. the only cunt i’ll ever need.”

it’s hard not to believe him when he goes all stupid like this, ready to pray to god just because the feeling of you can’t be explained by anything natural. you have nothing to worry about, schatz, can’t you see you’ve ruined everyone else for him?

#anon #könig call of duty #konig x you #könig x reader #konig cod #konig x reader #konig call of duty #konig smut #konig x y/n #könig smut #könig mw2 #könig cod #könig #konig modern warfare #konig mw2 #bella writes⋆ ˚｡⋆୨୧˚

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misserabella · 9 months ago

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sick love pt2

spencer reid x fem! reader

pt1!!

summary;

after catching your best friend spencer in a compromised situation, the two of you leave behind the ‘friend’ status to become a couple. if only you knew there was much more under the surface…

cw;

really perv!spencer, dark themes, somnophilia, breeding kink, daddy kink, praise kink, praising, degradation, multiple orgasms, overstimulation, squiring, oral sex (f & m receiving), dom spencer, p in v sex, double penetration, use of toys, unprotected sex, edging, slapping, orgasm denial, cum eating, cream pie, masturbation (m & f), voyeurism, dacryphilia, dirty talking, hair pulling, knife kink (mentioned), blood�� MINORS DNI OR I’LL COME FOR YOU!

If Spencer was absolutely and sickly obsessed with you…, it sure wasn’t the worse it could get.

His mind was in haze since the first time he made you his. I had been before, but now? It was just fog all over his brain, a fog under your name.

He could only think about you, dream about you, talk about you… It was all you.

And now that you were his, his whole heart seemed to have been ripped out of his chest. He would love to make a necklace out of it for you, so you and anyone who would try and approach you would know that he was as much yours as you were his.

But because he could not do that, he had made his personal mission to found other ways to do the same with no… Hanging hearts. So he had to conform with just marking you everywhere. Hickeys on your neck and chest, fingertip bruises on your thighs and hips, bites on your shoulders… He’ll put them everywhere and do them anywhere too, whenever and wherever he had a chance.

At first, he thought that you’d be scared by his possessiveness, but you surprised him yet once again when you’d just let him, loving his lips and marks on your skin as much as he did. He’d drag you to the closest empty classroom in free period just to pin you against the wall and attack your neck in mouth open wet kisses that had you rocking your hips against the leg that he had pushed in between your own, his cold fingertips against the warm skin of your thighs and ass, squeezing . “Looking so pretty today, baby.” he’d say, his breath against the wet of your skin making you shiver. “Fuck, I love it when you wear this little skirts of yours, got me all hard on my pants.” you’d moan when his hand would leave your skin just to fell harshly against it in a spank. “Love to see all those fuckers watching you, drooling over you yet still unable to get closer to you because they know you’re all mine...” his mouth was intoxicating, his tongue inside your mouth making your eyes roll and pussy throb. “Wear anything you want baby, anything you want.” he’d whisper, his fingertips trailing along your lower stomach just to bump against the hem of your panties and snuck under them, rolling your clit and making your head fall backwards and against the wall he had pinned you to. “I’ll make sure to mark you all up and pretty for them to know that they will never have what they so want.” and then, he’d choke you to stay quiet as he’d eat you out on top of the teacher’s table, sneaking your wet panties in his back pocket for him to fuck his fist later.

His obsession enhanced. Now that you were a couple, he didn’t have to hold it in anymore —at least that much…—. He’d sneak in your bedroom in the middle of the night to wake you up with his cock deep inside of you. You’d end up crying on his bare chest as he would fuck you dumb, filling you up with his cum for hours on end and using you as he would use his toy. Then, he’d stay inside, keeping his cock warm and your pussy full for the rest of the night. He’d even use the soft spot you had on him to make you sit on it in your stupid study dates, while napping, watching films…, saying that he wouldn’t concentrate if you didn’t.

He was a sucker for you, always tying up your shoes when the laces would come undone —taking the chance to stare at your clothed pussy—, braiding your hair for you —so he could get a sniff of your sweet shampoo—, putting on your makeup first thing in the morning when you were still half asleep —when he could steal some chapsticks for him to use and taste when he’d miss you— and softly taking it off for you when night time came… —sometimes he’d make you cry it out, fucking it out of you—. Anything he could do for you he would do, that and more.

He would often find himself in your room after telling you that he had to take a quick trip to the bathroom, looking for some new panties and little trinkets for his sweet collection and to touch himself buried in your sheets. He’d dry hump your pillow too, leaving it damp in cum for it to dry. The thought of you sleeping on it that night would have him whimpering in his own bedroom, fucking his fleshlight while watching a bad porn in where the girl’s moans sounded like your own, groans falling from his broken and bleeding lips, for constantly biting down on them. ‘Oh god, baby, so good… shit, you like that? Shit, just like that, fuck, you drive me insane…’

His photo collection had grown… Really grown. His favorite new acquisitions were the ones in which he had captured your perfectly used cunt, —his cum dripping out of it and onto your pink sheets— or the ones in which he could see his cock thrusting in your pussy, drool dripping down your chin, since his fingers where down your throat, and chest, neck and tits full of his marks. ‘Yeah, baby. Look at me. Just like that. Stuck your tongue out for me.’

He could not imagine himself nor his cock being away from you for even just a day. And who is it that you want to trick? You couldn’t either. Not when he sounded so fucking pretty every time you rode him, his usually soft groans becoming loud whimpers and moans, hips thrusting upwards in seek of more. ‘Fuck, ah, ah baby, please, please baby harder. Just like that, fuck, yes yes, shit, I love you. Love you so much… I’d do anything for you, baby, fuck, anything. Just let me stay like this, fuck! I’m gonna cum baby, fuck, fuck, fuck…’

Something he loved to do every chance he could get was taste you after cheer practice —something you’ve decided try as of late, and Spencer was all for it—. You had whined about it, saying that you were all sweaty and disgusting and that it wouldn’t taste good, but he wasn’t having it. He had been watching you turn, jump and shake your hips for almost two hours in that fucking little cheer skirt that actually drove him crazy. And he had to say that the splits that you’d do every now and then really didn’t help the tent in between his thighs. So, after your head leader had announced the end of the session, you’d find yourself holding for dear life to his hair as he kneeled in front of you, pulling up one of your legs for it to rest on his shoulder as his tongue leaped at your soaked pussy, eating you out against the lockers of the girls’ changing room. The scent was stronger after your night practices. The taste? Mind blowing. Additionally, you had to admit that the shower sex after that was enough to make you fall asleep on your way back home. Not that he found it a problem, he loved to carry you to his bed just to kiss your forehead and hug you tighter in your slumber. Watching you sleep would get him so hard that he couldn’t help himself by dry humping against your ass, hands on your tits as he kissed your neck. He loved it when you would yell at him the morning after about the new hickeys all over your skin —since he always seemed to push it too far those nights—, but he wouldn’t care less, not when your tits bounced like that and your pretty lips called his name over and over again. At the end of the day, he’d have you screaming his name in another type of scenario, and you wouldn’t be that pissed about love bites on your neck.

He also loved to tease you. Pushing your panties aside and fucking you with his fingers while in a gathering with your best friends. Your squirming and tries to not show having him rocking against your ass. Sometimes he’d even drop something under the diner’s table where you’d be eating together to get a taste of your dripping juices, making you almost cum in the spot. Or those movie nights with your group, where he’d have you crying in the nook of his shoulder due to the amount of times he had already made you cum with his fingers, deliciously overstimulating you. ‘Is she okay?’ You’d hear one of your friends ask, and Spencer would just say that you were too sensitive or too scared depending on what type of movie y’all were watching that night.

The best sex came later, when you would follow him to the bathroom and he would fuck you so harsh your cheek would end up pressed against the sink mirror, fingers down your throat to make you shut up, since your cries were so loud it almost got the two of you caught… Not that he’d care, just the thought of someone stepping in to him fucking you senseless had him filling your cunt in cum… Cum that he’d push inside with his fingers as he pushed your panties back up for it to stay there.

“Be a good girl and I’ll eat it out of you once we are alone, hm?” and he actually would, making you come two more times with just his tongue, leaving you clean.

Something he had started to look into was a little bit more…, darker. He had feared himself when the thought of you bleeding with his initials carved on your skin almost made him faint. Just thinking about you completely to his mercy, all tied up and open for him unable to move, got him unable to sleep for almost a week. He could almost hear your pleads and cries as he fucked into you with already a little vibrator bullet inside.

But the dream you both where living in had to end someday. He just wished it never had to.

That night, the two of you were returning from a day on the pool with your group, your hair still wet since you had been begging him to stay for a little longer, having to pull you out of the water when the sun had gone down and you were shivering, fingers all wrinkled due to just how many hours you had spent in there. The skin of your cheeks, chest and shoulders was sun kissed, flushed even if Spencer had made sure that you had sunscreen applied every hour. “Woah! Careful babe.” he smiled when you had slipped against wooden tiles, giggles leaving your lips when his warm arms pressed you against his bare chest to avoid you falling and hurting yourself.

“Sorry, I guess I can’t help falling for you, Reid.” he chuckled, your burning skin against his colder one making him slightly dizzy, his dick throbbing inside his blue short jeans when your nails scratched his chest, doe eyes looking up at him as you bit your bottom lip.

“That’s my line, baby.” he muttered, leaning in ‘till your breaths met, lips brushing and hips pressing against each other. You moaned when his tongue pushed inside your mouth in a hot yet lazy kiss, the hands on your hips sliding down, to your ass, where his fingers hardly dug, squeezing and pressing you against his hardening cock.

The temperature of the room quickly changed, gasps filling the air with every new kiss that you shared, his fingers tugging on the towel that surrounded you and getting it to fall to your feet. You let out a chuckle that quickly tuned into a moan when his mouth latched to your neck, bitting down hard on the flesh and leaving marks. “Spencer…” you called out for him, hearing him hum against your skin as one of his legs pushed in between your thighs. “We need to shower.”

“I’ll clean you up baby.” your cheeks flushed when his tongue made a long strip up your neck and towards your ear. “You know I’m good at that.” and you knew what he meant, but you still wouldn’t give in, hearing him groan when you pulled him away from your neck by his hair. “Baby…” his lips tried and go back to yours, but you shook your head.

“I need to go wash up.” his hands pulled on your hips to keep you closer.

“I could wash up with you.” he suggested and you chuckled, shaking your head, to what he whined, almost in pain to have to be away from you for… 10 minutes.

“I’ll be back.” you promised, giving him a little peck on the lips, leaning on his ear so only he could listen to what you whispered. “Keep this warm for me, alright?” he whimpered when one of your hands came down to the crotch of his jeans, giving a light squeeze to his hard dick, quickly leaving downstairs and scaping his hands.

Normally, Spencer was pretty patient. Hell, he had been patient with you for years on end, hoping for the day that he got to finally fuck you. But there was something about you after that first taste that had him all hot and bothered. You were like a drug. He’d always want more and more after each overdose. He couldn’t help it, you were all he had ever dreamed of. That’s why he found himself silently sneaking up stairs and straight to his room —which was connected to his private bathroom, where you had eventually brought little bottles of your own shampoos and conditioners for this little occasions where you had to shower at his house—. He had hoped to catch you stripping, maybe even looking for some of his clothes to change into, but never in a thousand years he had imagined this…

You were frozen, completely frozen. Standing in the middle of his room and beside his desk, which’s last drawer was fully open and exposed. He felt his blood run cold. That was supposed to be locked. You weren’t supposed to see what was inside, weren’t supposed to be eyeing his little collection of your naked pictures nor porn magazines with your face glued on top of the model’s. You had seen it all. All the little trinkets he has stolen from you…, all the panties that had misteriously disappeared from your drawers, the new and untouched toys he had bought in hopes to someday using in you: mouth gags, dildos, vibratos, handcuffs…Everything.

“Baby…” he stuttered, your eyes still fixated on the little polaroids and sticky pages of the magazine. It hadn’t been long since the last time he had masturbated to them. Maybe that’s why in a little slip he had forgotten to lock the drawer, the magazine sticking out far enough to catch your attention and leaving you out of words when you’d found his little dirty secret. “Shit.” You had even found his fucking diary, in which he described the dirty things he dreamed of you, that he’d love to do to you… Fucking hell.

He didn’t know what to say to not seem like the creep he was. He had fucked up big time. And now you were going to leave him, you were going to probably call the police and get him in jail with a little restraining order as a welcome gift. “I’m sorry, I’m so sorry, fuck, you weren’t supposed to see any of this, you weren’t supposed to…” he was trailing off as his feet quickly approached you, trying so hard not to cry that his heart fell to the pit of his stomach when a little whimper came out of your rosy and fully lips. His eyes widened when he saw the look on your face and state you were in: half-lided and glossy eyes looking up at him, cheeks and ears fully blushed and thighs squeezing and pushing flush against each other. You were supposed to feel disgusted, terrified. And yet there you were, wetter and needier than ever. “Look at me.” the low of his voice almost made you cum, walls clenching and breath hitching.

“Spencer…” you whined when his thumb and index finger harshly took your chin, making your head turn towards him. Your voice was a mere whisper, but it still had his dick jumping in his jeans and blood rushing to his head.

“Look at me.” he repeated, this time taking his time with every word to make sure you heard the warning on them. It was not a plead, it was an order. You gasped when your eyes met his, completely fucked out of your brain and feeling dizzy, Spencer made you feel dizzy, the words on his diary had. It was just so much need in them, so many promises of tears and pleasure… His eyes were just two black holes, pupils blown and breathing slow. “Look at you.” he chuckled, unable to believe any of this. You whimpered when his hand left your chin to grip your neck, pulling you against his bare chest and caging you against the wall on your back. You were boiling up, almost evaporating when his lips brushed against the conch of your ear. “Did my little secret turn you on, baby? Did that little pussy of yours got all wet while reading my diary?” you moaned when his leg pressed in between your thighs, he could feel the heat of your core against his bare thigh. “Aw of course you did, you love it, don’t you? Love to know just how much I crave you. How much I want to hurt you and make you cry on my cock. Make you bleed… Fuck you all up and pretty for me until you’re nothing more than a hole for me to fuck into, hm?” you nodded, your head falling backwards in a whimper when he pushed upwards and against your clit, making you rut on him. His lips were all over your neck, sucking on that sensitive spot that got you begging him for more. “Is that what you want, baby? Want me to fill you up on my cum? Use you? Cut you?”

“Fuck, Spencer, yessyesyes please, anything you want. Anything.” he groaned against the skin of your shoulder, biting hard enough for blood to flow in his mouth. It hurt, badly, but it only made you crave him more. Crave it more. Your hands tangled on his air, his half-lidded eyes on yours, which were fixated on his crimson stained lips.

“What is it baby? Want a taste?” he leaned in, a smirk on his face. You whined at his teasing, pushing him against you when his lips brushed against yours, still not giving in. He clicked his tongue, the hand on your neck pining you harshly against the wall, making your head bump slightly against it. “If you want something… You just need to ask.” your back arched when his free hand snuck down to your chest, tugging on your upper part of your bikini, making your tits pop out. You gasped at his harsh grip on one of them.

“Please Spencer, kiss me, kiss me…” you craved it so bad it hurt.

“Poor thing. Why don’t you open your mouth for me, hm?” you didn’t wait to follow his words, moaning when his tongue entered your mouth, the metallic taste of your blood making your eyes roll to the back of your head, hips stuttering as you dry humped his thigh. He kissed you to the verge of tears. It felt so good, the taste of your blood on his mouth, his right hand on your neck and his left leaving your nipples to slowly stumble down your stomach and slip inside the bottoms of your bikini, which laces he quickly unmade, throwing the piece of clothing aside. Your mouth fell open in a cry when his fingers bumped against your clit, a harsh slap being given to your cunt when his name fell from your lips. Your hips buckled against his hand, the sting bringing new tears to your eyes. “Be good baby, you know that’s not my name, is it?” you shook your head.

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry daddy…” a smirk tugged on his lips, and he rewarded you with his fingertips back on that sensitive spot, when your mouth fell open in a whimper taking the chance and spitting inside of it.

“Now swallow.” you gratefully did, gasping for air when the hand on your neck pushed in your mouth, fingers making you whimper. “What a beautiful mouth you have…” you moaned when he thrusted his fingers in your throat. And you took it, tongue swirling and sucking on them as you rocked your hips against his fingers and thigh. “Yet no one has yet showed you how to properly use it.” you felt like crying when he took a step back, leaving you squirming and in need of his touch, which came back, harshly than ever to make you sink to your knees, fingers in between your locks. “You know your safe word, right?” you nodded as you heard the ruffling of his jeans and underwear, zipper and button unbuckled leading the denim to fall and pool around his ankles, his soaked underwear came shortly after. “Good… If it’s too much just let me know, okay sweetheart?” You moaned affirmatively when the tip of his cock pressed against your cheek, precum staining the curve of your lips when he outlined them. “Open.” he didn’t have to ask twice, lips parting ready to receive him in your mouth, which was watering at the thought of choking on his cock, of swallowing his cum. He cursed when you kitten licked his tip, the salty of the white beads on his slit making your eyes roll to the back of your head and your hands eagerly push his hips closer, head leaning in to completely take him, just to whimper when he tugged harder on your hair, not letting you get any closer. “Such a fucking slut hungry for cock.” he chuckled, loving just how needy you looked to have him in your mouth. “I bet that’s what you’ve always wanted, isn’t that right? Want me to fuck that little and tight throat of yours, hm?” you nodded, a ‘yes, please daddy, want your cock so bad…’, leaving your lips, what made him click his tongue, tip pressing against your wet tongue when you pushed it out of your mouth. “Then fucking take it.” you were gagging when he thrusted inside your mouth, the hand in your hair pushing you against his dick so he could reach the back part of your throat, nose buried in his pubic hair as your nails dug on his thighs. “What is it, baby? Isn’t this what you wanted?” you whimpered when he pulled out just to ram back in, picking up a pace that had you short on air. But the feeling of his big cock fucking your mouth had you only begging for more of that harsh treatment, making you impossibly wet. You were crying due to the constant chocking and gagging, tears running down your cheeks as you took him in your mouth. “Aw, you crying?” the sight of your tears only made him buck his hips harder and faster against your face. “I couldn’t care less.” you moaned around his cock, feeling it twitching in your mouth every time you deep throated him. “Yeah, baby, fuck, take my cock, shit, just like that… What a dirty girl…” one of the hands that stood on his thighs travelled down in between your legs, fingers circling your clit in search of a release that you so desperately wanted. “Are you touching yourself?“ you nod around his cock, a whimper leaving your lips when his tip hit the back of your throat after giving you a harsh slap. “Such a desperate little bitch… Who told you you could make yourself cum, huh?” his dick came out of your mouth and you gasped for air, which didn’t actually last long since there was already a hand around your neck as he kneeled with you.

“I’m sorry— I’m sorry daddy!” you quickly apologized, taking your hand away from your soaking pussy.

“Yeah, you’ll be.” next thing you knew? Your back was making impact with his bedsheets, getting a moan out of your lips when his body pressed against yours, lips latched to your neck.

“Fuck!” you screamed when two of his fingers harshly pushed inside of you, fucking you as he sucked on your nipples, fully erect.

“Is this what you wanted, hm? Tell me baby, is this what you wanted? My fingers fucking your brains out and making you cum? I’m sure you do, you dirty whore…” you thighs trembled when he hit that sweet spot in your gummy walls, thumb circling your clit.

Tears rolled down your cheeks as you nodded, unable to talk, unable to fucking open your mouth. All you could focus on was on Spencer, on his pretty fingers fucking in and out of you, of his teeth on your tits, on his cock fully pressed against one of your thighs, leaking and ready to cum.

“Fuck Spencer, i-i’m gonna cum, i’m gonna…” and as your walls clenched, you cried out when he left you with nothing. Making your high never reach its peak as he pulled his fingers out of you. Your whole body was trembling due to the denial of your orgasm, hands quickly reaching out for him, but he pressed them against the duvet, finger digging in your wrists. “Please, Spencer, daddy, shit, I was so close…”

“I didn’t say you could come yet, sweetheart. Only good girls get to cum.” oh, he was playing you. You knew this was his little vengeance for that day you had caught him touching himself. His eyes shone with lust when you whimpered due to the spank his hand gave to your soaked cunt. “Look at that. You really want it, hm? So needy for cock…” your back arched when his thumb was back to your clit, toying with the little nub enough to edge you but not to make you cum. He relished in the little pleads that left your lips. ‘Please daddy, ah let me cum, please? I’ll do— I’ll do anything, anything. Spencer, shit, please…’ “Anything?” you nodded, too lost in that sickening pleasure your body succumbed to to even notice the subtle change in his gaze. “Okay, then don’t regret it later…”

And then he was gone, leaving you completely alone in his bed as he stood up, looking for something before he would come back to you. Your half-lided eyes could get a glance of what he was holding in between his wet fingers: a dildo.

You moaned when his lips found yours, teeth clashing and tongues brushing each other as he sucked on your bottom lip. “If you’re so desperate…, why don’t you show me how much you want it?” he said once he had pulled away, tongue outlining his swollen lips as his hand —the one that hold the toy— rose up to your eyes, you whined when you understood what he was doing; swapping places.

“Spencer…” you whimpered, your cries being shut out when one of his hands cupped your face, making your lips pout out a little bit, brushing against his own.

“Come on, you said you’d do anything.“ he was smirking when his thumbed pressed against your bottom lip, dragging it backwards and then sticking it in your mouth. “Good girls get to cum, and maybe, if you put up a good show for me… I’ll fuck your just how you need it, hm?” he clicked his tongue when you nodded, tongue swirling around his finger. “Then go ahead, let me see you use the toy, sweetheart.”

He leaned backwards, letting you have your own space as he handed you the dildo. It was heavy in your hands, and pink, with just the perfect girth and length —there’s no need to say that Spencer’s cock was bigger in both ways, and much more beautiful…— with even veins on its sides.

His eyes never left you as you neared it to your gushing cunt, letting your soaked lips surround it to lube it up. You sighed at the feeling of its tip pushing against your clit, using its head to tease yourself up and down, sometimes slightly pushing around your hole. “Yeah, that’s right. Touch yourself for me… That’s a good girl.” you moaned as you saw his fist hold his hard cock, sliding up and down, slowly, as he observed you. It only made you want him more. Your back arched as you slowly pushed it inside you, eyes falling shut when you felt the burning stretch, gasping for air when you finally bottomed out with a raspy moan. He had fucked your throat for good. “Fuck, baby, just like that… So pretty.” his praising made your walls clench around the silicone as you slowly started to fuck yourself with it. “Look at you…” he chuckled when you started to pick up pace. “Needy, honey?” your eyes rolled to the back of your head when you hit that hidden spot, your teeth biting down on your bottom lip when a scream tried to leave your chest. “Don’t silence yourself, baby. Let me hear you.” his hand matched your pace, a groan leaving his lips at the sight of the toy disappearing in between your sticky folds.

“Spencer, fuck, please, need you so bad, need your cock Spencer, shit, right there, ah!”

“Fuck, you’re such a fucking slut…” he moaned, getting on top of your body once again, hand meeting yours at the base of the toy to harshly push it inside of you, making you scream. “You like that, hm? Like fucking yourself while I watch, yeah? Fucking whore, you love the attention, don’t you?” you were a babbling mess, drooling all over the sheets as the tip of the toy mercilessly pushed against your g spot, making you see stars behind your close eyes. “You want my cock, hm? Want my cock, sweetheart?”

“Yes please, Spencer, pleasepleaseplease, fuck me please…” your hips were bucking against his hand, begging for more. You were burning up, craving him in ways you’ve never craved anyone before. Craving for him to use you, destroy you. You moaned when the top of his leaking cock pressed against your clit, making your head spin as he continued to pound inside of you with the dildo. “Then take it, take my cock, baby.” your eyes widened when you felt him push against your hole, still filled up by the toy. You hands quickly tried and push on his chest, but you moaned when his tip went in, tears pricking at your eyes when you felt him start to push inside of you. You were so painfully full and stretched that your nails dug on his shoulder, making him moan against your neck. “Fuck. So tight. Shit.” you were sobbing by the time he was halfway in, where he stopped momentarily to let you breath. “Shhh, it’s okay baby, it’s okay, you can do it.” he was hushing you, his hands on your cheeks as he kissed the tears away. “You want me to stop? Just say the word baby, just say the word and I will…” his eyes were sweet —although lust glossed them— when he stared at you, promise on the hazel of his irises. You knew he would do it, that he would shut everything down and forget all about this. But you wanted it. Wanted it as badly as him. Craved it even. So you simply shook your head, giving him the green flag to continue. “Fuck, I love you.” he said, kissing your lips. “I love you so much…” you both moaned in each other’s mouth as his hips pushed further, slowly bottoming out and gasping when he was completely in. “What a good girl…” you were crying on his hands as he praised you, trying to breath through your nose and get the slightest used to the filling of not just one, but two cocks inside of you. “So tight for me.” your back arched when he started to move. It was slow at first, trying to get you accustomed to the feeling while making your mind drift off from the pain to the stimulation of your clit and nipples —which he sucked and bit down onto—.

“Shit, Spencer…” he smirked when your frown smoothed out, mouth falling open when he hit your g spot, legs surrounding his hips and fingers digging in his messy and silky hair. “Just like that, don’t stop, please…”

“Look at you… You love the feeling of two cocks inside you, don’t you? Filling you up so good you can’t even breath, hm? What a whore…” you moaned, exposing your neck to his lips. “Can’t get enough with just one so you must have two. So greedy…”

“Spencer!” you screamed when his thrust became harder, relentless and merciless, hands tugging on your nipples.

“Do you feel it baby? Feel your pussy all stretched out for me?” he almost came in the spot when his eyes connected with the bulge on your stomach. “Fuck, look at that. So full of me…” you didn’t mean to, but you were cumming all over his cock and the toy when his fingers pushed against it, making a scream rip out your throat as your walls clenched around him, making him groan. Everything was white and the world went absolutely quiet as you dissolved in his arms, unable to even breath at the intensity of your orgasm. “Shit, that was so fucking hot…” his hips stuttered when your walls fluttered around him. “Don’t clench on me that hard baby, feels like you are trying to milk my cock dry…” he chuckled just to curse moments after.

You were drooling on your shoulder as he thrusted inside of you. You were feeling so good by having that goddamn dildo inside of you that he felt that tightening feeling of jealousy string around his heart. “Fuck this.” he wanted you all for himself. Wanted to fuck you all by himself ‘till you couldn’t even remember you own fucking name.

You whined when he pulled out of you the toy, your walls quickly molding to his size just how he liked it. Still so fucking tight. You felt loss at the little emptiness that the toy left behind, but it quickly got pushed outside of your mind when Spencer started to fuck your brains out of you, hands on your hips as he slightly sat up, bringing you down on his cock with each new thrust. “Spencer, ah, shit, so good…, fuck, daddy, more!” he moaned when he felt your walls clench around him, the muscles below the skin of his arms flexing as he pushed you harshly down his dick, making the tip torture that spot that always made you cum in a matter of seconds. “Fuck, I’m gonna— I’m gonna…”

“Go ahead baby, cum all over my cock. Want to see it drip down your thighs.” he said, changing positions so one of his hands would be free to circle your clit.

“Shit, Spencer, fuck I’m coming!” you screamed when you felt your climax wash over you, making your body go rigid just to go limp after a couple of seconds.

Spencer continued to fuck you through it, cursing at the tightness of your soaked and swollen cunt. Fuck, he couldn’t stop. He couldn’t get enough.

“Spencer, ‘s too— too much, fuck, I’m gonna cum again!” new tears travelled down your cheeks at the constant stimulation, fingers never stoping overstimulating your clit and dick harshly fucking into you, your nails dug on his back, drawing blood as you gushed all over his cock, squirting so hard you dampened your thighs and the sheets below you. “S-Spencer, s-stop…” you were crying so hard, unable to stop squirting at his constant fucking, unable to form an actual goddamn sentence, babbling in between sobs.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck…” Spencer couldn’t stop his hips, fucking you so good you swore you were fucking dying. The feeling of your pussy around him was like stepping in heaven, the dirty wet sounds of his cock pounding into you and the splashing of your juices making him lose his mind. “I’m gonna cum, shit!” he moaned when he spilled inside your abused walls, making your eyes roll to the back of your head, whimpering at the sticky and warm feeling. “Fuck, baby, so good…” he muttered against your neck as he fucked himself down his climax, hips stopping while he was still buried deep inside of you and arms failing to keep him up right, making him fall on top of you.

The two of you tried to pace out your breathing, you moaning when little pecks were given to your neck, chest and shoulder before his lips found yours, tongue entering your mouth in a lazy kiss. You fingers lazed on his locks, pulling and playing with his hair as his teeth slightly bit down on your jaw, and then your neck, and your collarbones, and your chest, and…

You hissed when he pulled out of you, cum dripping and meeting your juices on the sheets as his lips trailed down your stomach.

“Hurts?” he questioned, to what you nodded, making a slow smirk appear on his face. “Want me to kiss it better?” you let out a little gasp when he nibbled on your hip bone, lips extremely close to your heat.

He took the tugging on his hair as a ‘yes’, positioning himself better and raising your legs up on his shoulders as he left open mouth kisses on your inner thighs, little sighs leaving your lips as he neared closed and closer… “Poor baby, fucked so good it’s all sore and swollen now.” You moaned when he finally got lost in between your thighs, humming at the taste of the two of you dripping out of your cunt. Your head felt backwards as you gave into the pleasure, into his lips, into his name and fingers.

Into his sick love. Into Spencer Reid.

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petertingle-yipyip · 1 year ago

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DONT BE A FOOL - MATT MURDOCK

Pairing: matt x wife!reader

Word Count: 2, 156

Summary: After a very tense argument about a misused name, your apologetic husband ends up getting looped in by your students.

//follow-up to three empty words but can probably be read on its own. i realize i lost the original plot so if it’s too bothersome, i’ll rewrite it// rewrite/part three?

The next morning, you refused to dilly dally your morning routine. Your shower was quick, your hair and makeup remained simple. Even your outfit was more or less the first thing you grabbed from your closet. You gathered all of your papers - which you hadn’t gotten around to grading the night before - and your laptop before Matt’s alarm had even gone off.

You skipped making breakfast, deciding to stop at a coffee shop on the way to work instead, and hustled out the door. You ignored the still sleeping figure of Elektra on your couch even though your brain wanted to soak her with cold water and kick her out. You did slam the door on your way out but that was just to satisfy your own anger.

You walked into your classroom and let out a loud sigh as you dropped into your deskchair. You were thankful to be out of the house, in your own space for the time being. As you began grading the papers and piling them according to the hours, your mind wandered back to the night before. You wondered if Elektra would be out of your apartment when you got back. You wondered if Matt would tell Foggy and Karen that you two got into a fight last night. You then found yourself wondering if Matt was actually going to go to work that morning.

You realized you were staring blankly at the student’s worksheet in front of you so you shook the thoughts and focused on the daunting stacks before you.

Most of the hours were business as usual. Your normal rowdy students were a bit extra, but that might’ve been due to your already grated nerves more than their own behaviors. It wasn’t until the hour before lunch that you found some of your students more huddled and secretive than usual.

“What are you doing in the corner?” You called, peaking over your computer at the small group. “There’s, what, five minutes till the bell?”

“Mrs. Murdock, what’s your husband’s name?” One of the girls, Liv, asked with an innocent expression. The same one she gave you when she explained her lacking assignments.

“Matthew.” You titled down your screen to see them better. “Why?”

“What does he do again?”

“Lawyer. Why?”

“Is he handsome?” Another girl, Nicole, asked with wiggling eyebrows.

You had to refrain from rolling your eyes at your middle schoolers.

“Yes, very.” You smiled slightly. “I wouldn’t have married him if he wasn’t.”

“And if he’s a lawyer, he’s gotta be smart, right?”

“Again, very. He went to Columbia.”

“So like… Is he why you’re so sad today?” Blake, the only boy in the group, chimed in with a nonchalant shrug.

“Guys.” You frowned slightly. “I’m not sure what you’re doing, but I’m not sad. Me and Mr. Murdock are fine. We’re happily married. And you should be worried about your own relationship drama, not mine.”

“So you admit there’s drama?” Nicole countered quickly.

“Between Blake and Emmy? Yes.” You nodded and Emmy’s jaw dropped while her friends poked her teasingly. “Between me and Mr. Murdock, no.”

“Mhmm.. So why is the photo face down?”

“What?”

“The photo by your computer.” She came across the room and lifted the frame near your laptop that was in fact, face down. “You told us on the first day that this was one your favorite photos and you have it on it’s face… There’s drama, Mrs. Murdock.”

“You’re very observant, Nicole. Thank you.” You said flatly as you took the frame from her hands and set it in it’s rightful position. “I must’ve knocked it over when I was trying to find you and Liv’s missing portfolio project.” “You can’t deflect, Mrs. M.” Liv added from across the room. “It’s all over your face.”

“Y’know what.” You announced, standing from your desk. “The bell rings in less than two minutes. You guys can all go to lunch early.”

A chorus of questions arose while you heard the door being pushed open.

“They can’t write you all up.” You shrugged and dropped back in your chair while the meddling group made their way into the hall.

The girls continued to whisper to themselves and glanced back at you, to which you shooed them away. When you were finally alone in your classroom, you let out a heavy sigh and rubbed a hand over your eyes.

Usually, you adored having open communication with your students because that meant they trusted you. But at the same time, that meant they felt entitled to know your life story whether you like it or not. The bell echoed in your ears so you spun your chair to the small fridge under your desk that held your lunch.

You clicked play on a playlist from your laptop and began eating your lunch, typing away to enter in grades. You knew you should just do nothing, scroll mindlessly on your social medias instead or maybe even call Foggy to ensure Matt made it to work, but the busy work for your eyes, head, and hands felt better. Plus, you weren’t exactly sure what you would’ve said that could’ve gotten your question answered without being a dead giveaway. So you kept working instead.

“MRS. MURDOCK!” Liv nearly yelled as she burst through your door, maybe halfway through the lunch hour. “OHMYGODYOULLNEVERBELIEVE-”

“Liv!” You said in shock, nearly dropping your water bottle. “What is going on? Is everything okay?”

“Look at this!” She hurried across and showed you her phone screen. Oddly enough, it was a photo of the back of a man exiting a taxi. What stood out to you was the white cane in his hand.

“It’s a guy getting out a cab.” You tried to reason, gently pushing her phone away. “That’s what you ran in here to tell me?”

“But he’s blind!”

“So it seems.”

“Don’t you know what this means?” She insisted with a small stomp.

You simply shrugged and raised your brows.

“It’s Mr. Murdock! He came to apologize!”

“Liv, I appreciate your concern for my marriage but we’re fine, okay? It’s not like he and I are heading towards a divorce. We’re just in a bit of an argument. It’ll be fine.”

“Are you sure? Because I’ve never seen you so…” She gestured vaguely to you.

“Yes, I’m sure. Now go back to your lunch, please. I have to finish these.”

“But-”

“No.”

“Mrs. M, just-”

“Liv, boundaries, please.”

“Just listen!”

“No.” You said firmly. “Go back to your lunch.”

She huffed slightly but retreated to the door. As she was heading out, she nearly ran into one of the monitors.

“Sorry to intrude, Y/N.” The monitor said as she popped her head in. “I have a visitor for you.”

“Another one of my kids being a problem?” You sighed and wheeled yourself a bit further from your desk. “Send ‘em in. They can sit in the corner till next class.”

“Actually, I think you’ll be glad to see this one.” She smiled knowingly and reached for something outside the doorframe.

Before you could voice another question, she ushered Matt through the door. He said his usual thanks for being guided and the monitor gave you an approving nod and thumbs up. She mouthed a very not subtle ‘He’s very handsome’. You smiled awkwardly in agreement but once the door closed, you rolled your eyes and went back to your gradebook.

“Could’ve called.” You said simply.

“I didn’t think you would answer.” Matt replied honestly.

“Probably wouldn’t have… Shouldn’t you be at work?”

“I couldn’t focus.”

You heard the clicks of him folding his cane as he wandered around your classroom. You peaked up to watch him manueaver the desks with such ease that for a split second, you forgot he was blind. You watched him run his fingers along the bulletin board you had on one wall, leading into the standards and other required signage you had up.

“Did she leave?” You asked and returned to your prior task. You knew if you watched him for too long, he’d know and he’d show you that stupid lopsided smirk that he did.

“She was still pretty weak when I left.” He said and there was a slight sadness in his voice. Though if someone asked if it was for Elektra or your argument, you wouldn’t have been able to say. “But I did ask Stick to find somewhere else to take her to recover if she can’t leave on her own by the time someone gets home.”

“Chivalrous.” You made a face behind your computer screen. “You didn’t have to come all the way here to tell me that.”

He sighed slightly and you mumbled a short complaint to yourself before scooting away from your desk and spinning in your chair to face him, just as he appeared at your side. You folded your hands over your stomach and leaned back in your chair, giving an exaggerated sigh and nod for him to talk.

“Y/N, last night, I said something I shouldn’t have.” He began carefully, as if he was following a carefully rehearsed speech. For all you knew, he had rehearsed it with Foggy that morning before he showed up. “I let Stick push me and I just said the first thing that came to mind.”

“But she shouldn’t be the first thing, right?” You said softly with a small shrug. “Stick shouldn’t be able to push you into saying that, whether you meant it or not.”

“You’re right.” He admitted and your brows went up slightly. “I shouldn’t have said that. You are the only woman that I want to be with. I married you, without any hesitation. I never had second thoughts or second thoughts or anything. You, Y/N Murdock, have my heart.”

You nodded slowly but said nothing as you stood. You crossed your arms and looked up at him, him offering a hopeful expression in return. You broke into a small smile and nudged him with your shoulder before moving past him. He followed you almost instantly and you took him to the wall on the other side of your desk near the window.

“The kids started calling this the Sweetheart’s Spotlight.” You said quietly with a small smile. “They keep a polaroid camera in one of the cubbies and every Friday, they rearrange the couples in order of their favorites… They made me put a photo of us on here, too.”

“Where do we rank?” He smiled slightly.

“We’ve been number one since it started.” You laughed. “They tell me that you’re the best by default since I’m their favorite teacher.”

“Lucky me.”

“You know I’m still upset, right?” You said carefully when the air was too light between you two.

“I know.” He nodded. “I can hear it in your voice.”

“But I also don’t want to hold onto this fight. So here’s an idea. Elektra’s out of the apartment today. You two finish whatever crusade you’re on. You make sure you don’t get yourself killed. She leaves New York and it’s all put to bed.”

“Consider it done.” He nodded. “And I know better than to get myself killed. I’ve got it too good to die.”

“Yeah because then I’m a widow and there’s not much life insurance to cash in on.” You joked as the lunch bell rang.

“I should get going.” He nodded before gently taking your hand. “I love you. So much.”

“I love you too.” You said softly as your students started filing in.

“OHMYGOD.” One of your students yelled and you closed your eyes tightly, quietly groaning in embarrassment. “IS THAT WHO I THINK IT IS?”

“Yes, Luna.” You said, feeling the blush across your cheeks. “This is Mr. Murdock and he’s leaving.”

You pulled Matt towards the door as he laughed. Your kids yelled questions that you tried to ignore until Matt stopped, pulling you to stop with him.

“It’s career week!” One of the boys yelled. More so a demand.

“I’m aware, Jack.” You nodded. “What does that have to do with this?”

“He’s not here to talk to us about lawyers?” The boy’s head cocked as he asked his question.

“That’s exactly why I’m here.” Matt grinned and you groaned again. “Let’s give Mrs. Murdock a break, right?”

“You’re so dead.” You threatened quietly with a laugh before heading back to your chair.

“Okay, kids.” You announced. “He’s blind and can’t write. I’m not getting up. Take your own notes and keep your questions relevant to his career, okay?”

“Yes, Mrs. Murdock.” They all answered.

“All yours, Mr. Murdock.” You gestured before returning to grading and the personal questions started flying.

“How did you guys meet?!”

“What’s her favorite color?!”

“Did you see the wall?!” “He can’t see!”

“Are they always this rowdy?” He asked you with a slight laugh.

“You’re new and exciting.” You shrugged. “Take it as a compliment.”

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lunarcowgirl · 17 days ago

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lean with me | two

yeah yeah i wrote another part for my fuckass jack abbot x f!doctor!reader fic <3

read part one here and part three here

not my gif! but i do feel crazy about it!!!!!

jack abbot made a damn fool of himself in front of the one person he desperately wants to rely on him, now he's got to hope you'll let him fix it.

from the office of the author: damn! ya’ll got me feeling some kind of way in the comments and reblogs, I didn’t look at tumblr all day after part one scared it would have no notes 🥹 thank you so so much for your kind words!!!!! ideas for these two are currently eating out my brain like a terrible infectious disease, so expect more soon xoxoxoxo

also, if by chance you have requests/ideas/thoughts drop me an ask, you’d warm the freezing cockles of my heart <3

warnings: age gap of 10+ years, old man is a goose, the weather is shit in pittsburgh but i am from the southern hemisphere so i don’t understand how real winter works pls forgive me, #rollins apologist behaviour from the author, characters stand close to the edge of buildings but they don’t have any plans for leaving said building, bad grammar, bit o’ angst, bit of fluff (as a treat)

word count: 1.6k

Dr Abbot thought he was doing a rather terrible job at feeling anything other than pathetic thank you very much. The final 30 minutes of the shift dragged into eternity, and you were never close enough. You quietly extracted yourself from every scenario in which Jack might touch you or say your name. Hands quick, words gentle, you continued to heal your patients, but the wound between you and Jack remained gaping.

As 7am dawned, black and cold, Jack found himself to be in an entirely black and cold mood. And Robby’s aggravating cheerfulness upon arrival certainly did little to help.

“Brother,” The new father chirped across the desk, “How’d it go last night?”

“Sparkly.” Jack deadpanned, nearly tearing through the paper under his hands with the scratch of his pen. The computer you’d spent so much time hunched over this shift was now dark and quiet.

Usually you would wait to say goodbye before leaving, punching him lightly on the arm, cracking something wise-ass about putting his compression sock on right when he got home, letting his body rest.

“Don’t want the old legs given out on us now do we?”

You’d smile a smile that would tear right through him, making him feel young, like he could run on those old, broken and missing legs forever and ever. Every time it was a battle to not chase after you, to catch you at your car, to ask if you’d smile at him somewhere other than a place that always stunk of pain. That smile was no where to be seen. He tried his best to ignore the sensation of panic sitting near his heart.

“That bad huh?” Robby frowned, looking across one of the calmest Pitts they’d had in months.

“How is it at Casa Robinavitch?” Jack asked, putting down his instrument of destruction to look up at his friend. Robby looked 20 years younger, almost *glowing—*the freak.

“Baby slept 12 hours,” He declared throwing his hands up in delight. “Heather is perfect, and she is all mine tonight,” He added, only marginally quieter, eyebrows dancing.

In the wake of PittFest and all its rotting, rubbing, terror and ugliness, Robby and Heather deserved some goodness. But so much of it, right in front of Jack, was not kind on the stomach in this particular moment.

“Godspeed brother.” Jack laughed, rising from the desk and grabbing his friend’s shoulder for a quick squeeze. “Don’t fuck it up please?”

Robby nodded, smile unmoved, “I won’t. Now can you get your ugly mug out of my face please, I have work to do.”

“Yeah, yeah, have a good shift.”

Standing in front of his locker, the prospect of returning to a freezing, empty house for the next few days held no sense pleasure for Jack. What were the chances that if he wished hard enough, when the door clicked open you would be sitting on his couch in that ratty Penguins jersey you so adored, arms open and waiting for him? Slim, he decided. The usual low growl of the shift’s repressed hardship echoed through his head, waiting to eat away at him in the silence outside the ER. A quick trip to the roof, a few minutes in the freezing cold, would steady him enough to face it…and the absence of you.

The echo of your words seemed to bounce off the concrete walls of the stairs as he ascended.

What right do you have? Like it’s me that’s hurting you*?!*

He sped up; as if he’d ever been able to escape your voice. How was he going to explain his regret, his apology to you? Every last combination of words he tried felt shallow and inadequate. You deserved so much more than cello-taped sentences of shame.

Exploding out into sub-zero was euphoric. For just a moment, the world was in sharp focus, the blur of the past several hours evaporating into nothing but white. Pittsburgh peered down at him, the concrete offering its own disapproving look, the glass its own sting, the barren trees their own answer. Someone else was peering back at it, standing on the other side of the rail, leaning against the freezing metal.

That puffer.

You’d bought it on the very first day of Summer, parading it around the sweltering heat of a Pitt with aircon on the fritz.

“It cost me barely anything,” You told anyone who would listen, “Guess how much!”

You’d twisted back and forth, ensuring everyone got a good angle of the quality, nearly taking out Whittaker in your enthusiasm. Eventually you’d spun around to face Jack.

“Go on Cap, guess!”

He’d said something, a number plucked from obscurity. He couldn’t remember it now, or wether he’d been right. All he was thinking, now and then, was that it exactly matched the colour of your eyes.

He didn’t approach quietly, not wanting to startle you. Each crunch of snow felt like a choice being made, a door fast approaching, a step towards an abyss. You spoke without turning.

“I thought you’d come up here.”

Your words settled; a stone in a pool, ripples dancing out, brushing gently against his heart.

“I can leave if you want.” Jack said, hoping against all hope you would shake off the offer.

Your eyes turned to him, even brighter against the snow. You sighed, dusting off a patch of metal beside you and patting it firmly, “Lean with me.”

Jack only just managed to steady himself in his haste to join you, head nearly colliding with the steel as he ducked between the rails. For a moment you and him leant in breathless, anticipatory silence, looking out at the city that you had sweated and fought and cried for all night long.

It was you that first spoke into the void, “I’ve applied for the new Emergency Pedes Fellowship at PTMC, or have you forgotten that residents do have to find another job after the program ends?”

Jack’s eyes snapped to your face. He remembered Robby mentioning the opening position weeks and weeks ago, just in passing. But all the times you had mentioned your interest in Emergency Pedes medicine, every case you had jumped on to heal a little body, to calm a little mind, to soothe a little heart…he should have put the pieces together.

Without thinking he blurted, “You’ve been the only one ever any good with parents,” The internal wince at his messy attempt at soothing was immediate. Good with parents—what?

Your voice was small now, a tear soaked laugh just perceptible in it, “I didn’t want to tell you until I’d heard either way. I didn’t—” You did laugh now, “I didn’t want to disappoint you.”

Jack turned out to the city, the biting January air far, far easier to face. What an utter fool he was.

“I’m sorry.” He said, shaking his head. You didn’t say a word, just let the wind blow right through the both of you.

Jack returned his gaze to you, letting his eyes have their fill. Taking in each and every line and crease and feature. His favourite face in the whole world.

“I’m sorry,” Your name so soft and reverent on his lips, “It was incredibly…asshole of me.”

Your face scrunched at the words, rallying against a growing desire to laugh, “It was asshole indeed.”

The smallest of smiles. Your proximity. Your endless well of warmth and hope and joy. It made him want to be brave.

“I don’t quite understand it yet, but I feel very strongly about you. You are the first and last person I think about everyday. Yours is the face I picture when its all too much. Your voice is what I hear when I’m afraid. Your laugh is what stills me, calms me.”

Your mouth parted, just a bit, eyes becoming endless, swallowing him whole.

“When I thought that you might leave, perhaps that you would go overseas again, I was struck with fear I haven’t felt in a long, long time.” He took a long, stuttering breath.

“I don’t ever want to lose you.”

You surrendered, moving towards him, hand outstretched.

“It’s not an excuse,” he said, the words coming like a released river now, an outpouring of everything gathering dust within him, “I was selfish and I shouldn’t have done that, it’s not fair—”

Your arms enveloped him, face burying deep into his neck, hands curling into his hair. Everything you had wanted to do from the very first moment your eyes found his. He melted into your embrace, strong arms banding around your body, face pressing into the softest skin between your collarbone and shoulder. You cried into his scrubs, your relief and disbelief and joy bleeding out onto him—this man who had just given you a gift you had never even hoped could be yours.

Jack mumbled into your skin, “Baby, my baby.”

You pulled back, just enough to send your lips flying across his skin, every last bit you could reach. He accepted them gladly, so malleable and giving in your hands. Finally, finally, you found his mouth, crashing home with delight. For one precious eternity you simply remained pressed together, as if somehow endosymbiosis will begin. When you released each other, there was shared breath to relish in, and the feeling of foreheads connected, hands twined together. Could it have possibly been winter? Spring had come to a hospital rooftop in Pittsburgh. Something entirely new had bloomed. Jack gently released you to capture your face in his hands, with one thumb he carefully smoothed the skin between your brows, banishing for now any hint of a crease. There was no confusion, no frustration, no fear here.

“Are you working tonight?” You asked, words too full of smile to really parse.

“No, I’m off for the weekend,” His lips were in your hair.

You kissed him again, more desperate this time, seeking something more. His hands drifted south, smoothing over your shoulders, finding your hips, the tips of his fingers just grazing your ass.

Heart beating wildly, hot skin on hot skin, you took a dive, “Have breakfast with me.”

~~~~~~~~

There is fluff and hope for them in the sunrise people! Thank you for reading, these two will be back very very soon xo

previous | next

#the pitt #jack abbot #jack abbott #jack abbot fic #jack abbot x reader #jack abbott x reader #the pitt fic #the pitt angst #the pitt fluff #dr jack abbot #dr abbot #jack abbot x you #jack abbot angst #jack abbot fluff #jack abbot fanfiction #jack abbot x female reader #persiewrites

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saintobio · 9 months ago

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LUCIFER.

his fall was not from grace, yet in his descent, he found freedom—a kingdom of his own making, where he rules not with light, but with the shadows it casts. and you, unfortunate soul, are the sin that fuels his eternal reign.

♱ genre. gothic, dark romance, smut, angels/demons au, 18+

♱ pairings. sylus, fem!reader

♱ tags. 5.2k wc. this fic will contain dark and twisted themes. please heed the warnings and proceed with proper discretion. demon!sylus, sylus is ooc, not set in lads universe, profanity, heavy sacrilege/blasphemy, catcalling, sadistic undertones, dubcon, toxic relationships, corruption, sex in church, dacryphilia, mentions of obsession, allusions to stockholm syndrome, yandere, fingering, unprotected sex, explicit smut.

♱ notes. this is an old rewritten/reimagined fic of mine bcos i saw a theory abt sylus being a demon. and coincidentally, rewatching a season of lucifer only made my brain rot tenfold D; so if you've seen me post this fic before with another character, pretend you didn't >:D

Thunder grumbled as a flash of lighting struck through the dark blanket of twilight skies. The rumbling sound angrily resonated through the stretch of clouds as if the heavens were to wash away human sins that have long been plaguing this era of the 21st century. A shower of rain soon followed that started in huge droplets and later cascaded from the slate gray clouds like waterfall.

Checking your old leather watch, it was only 6PM. It had been two hours since the power outage doomed the whole neighborhood because the utility poles were severely damaged after the hurricane ravaged the city yesterday.

The thick soles of your boots landed heavily on the tessellated sidewalk with every step, holding your umbrella closer to seal you from the heavy rainfall. Your eyes followed the beads of rain that bounced off the cold cement as your mind wandered further than where your body could take you to.

You had left Sylus sleeping in bed back in your shared apartment so you could walk around the city and drop by the church. It wasn’t like you sneaked out, but was only reluctant to let him know of your whereabouts because you didn’t want him to follow you around, especially to such a scared place like church. Before you left, however, you did ensure that his silver cross was still enclosed around his collar just for your sanity.

It had been a while since you last visited the church. With the power out and nothing else to do, you decided it was the perfect time to visit the cathedral where you always made your most solemn prayers.

The streets were still in shambles, though. Road signages were sprawled on the sidewalk, branches were barely hanging off the trees—the city had vestiges of wreckage from the hurricane that emptied a usually busy metropolitan area today. Most people were still at the leisure of their homes as work and classes have been suspended until further notice, for everyone’s safety and to allow the government to clean the roads.

You could already imagine Sylus shaking his head at your resistance to just stay indoors and simply be with him. The only reason you were confident to leave his side today was because it had been awhile since the last incident. You could live with the thought of coming back home to Sylus and his usual self. Sylus, who was always thoughtful and tenderhearted albeit his dominant exterior. Never did you think that you could land a man of such warmth—a year in two days—but how you met was a story made for another day.

Amidst the already dismal atmosphere outside, stepping by the narthex inside the baroque church greeted you with an even more caliginous surrounding. Darkness enshrouded the interiors of your chosen place of worship with only as much as three paschal torches by the apse to light up the altar. Still, with God’s presence, your feet carried you in slow footsteps along the velvet red aisle as you made your way towards the nave.

You were alone in the eerie cathedral, but fear did not consume as you were in attendance to the crucifix above the high altar. This was your favorite cathedral among all the others in the city simply because of its gothic Victorian architecture.

Fixed with the cathedral’s grandeur and bedight with ornate decorations, you became more comfortable at situating yourself by the pew—genuflecting on the elevated wood behind the stretch of oak benches as soon as you found your usual spot.

“In the name of the Father, the Son, and the Holy Spirit,” you whispered in sotto voce, performing a sign of the cross with your eyes glued to the crucifix that represented Jesus Christ. You had your elbows propped atop the bench as you silently prayed.

Loving and gracious God, with all love and mercy, we thank you for blessing us with another day and protecting us in times of natural disaster.

You wanted to ignore the unusual cold air that slithered on your skin in horripilation. Your prayer resumed despite the Stygian gloom that darkened the cathedral’s interior or the sound of the harsh wind slamming through the towering doors by the vestibule. The storm is coming again, you mentally noted.

With your grace and kindness, Lord, I pray that you will continue to guide us—

The manly fleer echoing through the vacantness of the church made you halt from your recital. “I knew my cute church girl would be here.”

You knew that devilish voice all too well that it had you shutting your eyes, petrified. No wonder the air felt sinister. But if your gut-feeling about him was right, then there was no need to be frightened. “Sylus, I’m in the middle of a prayer,” you hushed, although before you could turn around to face his silhouette, he had already transported to your side with a wicked smile plastered on his pallid face.

“I’m not him,” he spoke in an orotund voice, stepping closer and closer. His ash blond hair did not hide his incarnadine eyes. “Stop looking for that runt when you’re with me.”

You stepped out of the pew with a rapid heartbeat, standing by the aisle as the tall man towered over you. “S-Sylus, where’s your—” you searched for his silver cross and found it still hanging around his neck, “did you break it?”

He glowered at your accusation. “You know I would if I could, sweetie.”

You exhaled a deep sigh. This was not Sylus, this was the malevolent demon inside of him. You ought to be cautious of yourself. “Okay, well... Leave me alone. I’m praying.”

“Ordering me around?” Each step that he took reverberated across the cathedral. He stretched his head from side-to-side in a manner that showed his ennui. “Don’t you miss me, kitten?”

There was no stopping to the loud thumping of your heart as you stood along the aisle with Sylus backing you off further to the center. “Sylus, I said not now,” you begged, but he refused to listen and only wiped his lower lip with his thumb.

“I hate it when you make me wait,” he muttered, stepping forward until your lower back hit the credence table at the altar. You found yourself trapped in a decreasing distance between yourself and the sadistic devil in front of you. “Don’t look so scared. We do this every time.”

“I’m not scared, but...” Your voice was getting softer, yet filled with fret. You pressed a hand on his chest as he locked your body with both arms around the table. “Please, not here.”

You had to be firm, you just had to be but you couldn’t muster the courage to fight back in Sylus’s presence. He was the embodiment of power and you were the representation of weakness.

He was a demon that thrived on sin, and he drew strength from indulging in the seven deadly sins. Vainglory, greed, lust, envy, gluttony, wrath, sloth—all of those fueled his existence. Today, however, it was the third sin that consumed him, the one that ignited his darkest sexual desires.

“I’ll be quick,” he bargained, undoing the upper buttons of your dress despite your failed attempts at pushing him away. Doing it at such a place! You sent him a glare but he only returned a sly smile. “How about we show your God what you’re really like underneath that maidenly exterior, hm? Show him how dirty you really are?”

God, help me. You desperately shook your head, now overthinking if someone could see what he was about to do to you in this holy sanctuary. Long before you could cover your chest, he already pinned your wrist on the side as he lowered the fabric to show your collar. “Sylus—!”

“Don’t be shy, kitten,” the whisper he sent through the shell of your ear caused shivers to your spine. With his heightened senses, he placed his mouth on your ear, “No one’s here to watch us except for your God. Be a good girl now.”

You tried to push him once more to no avail as he sucked on the flesh above your shoulder. There was no warning to prepare you from the sudden harsh suction. “I-It hurts!”

Your nails dug into your palms to leave crescent marks on your flesh while you were squirming out of his strict hold.

“It hurts? Good.” He continued to leave marks all over your flesh as he caged your waist around his arm. The feeling of his teeth pricking your skin had you whimpering in pain, and his eyes had grown rutilant when he momentarily pulled away to look at you. “You’ll hurt even more,” and then he erupted into a deep chuckle as if you were a meal that he was seasoning with a sprinkle of fear, “I should really just keep you for myself.”

Your desire to breathe grew exponentially. “I’m not yours.”

A low sneer and a dissatisfied ego had you pressed against the oak table in surprise. “Yes, you are,” he reiterated as though he was enforcing the idea in your head. “Your soul, your heart, your body—you are mine.”

“I’m not! I wasn’t born in this world to be your property,” you protested, pulling away from his grip only to be slammed harsher on the table. You knew you should never anger a demon but his possessive nature irked you. Aside from your already shameful situation, you wanted nothing but to get away from him. “You’re evil.”

“What makes you so brave? Your beliefs?” he gritted, reaching for an object near your head that turned out to be the Bible. “This?” he quickly opened the sacred handbook and ripped the pages in front of your very eyes with a distasteful smile. How easily he ripped it, how easily he also tossed it. “Whatever, then. There’s no God. You humans are complete idiots for worshiping a nonexistent being. Weren’t you the ones saying that I’d burn as soon as I stepped into a church?”

“He is your father!” You sat back up, revolted by his blasphemy. He had no right to mock God like this. “Don’t taint my beliefs with yours. My faith in Him is stronger than you think.”

“You should know what it’s like to be in hell before you say that shit,” he retorted, placing his lips back on your ear, “I’ll take you there with me.”

This is not the time and place! What a shameful situation he was putting you through, so unbelievably shameful and obscene that you couldn’t look at him in the eyes. “Sylus, I swear. I’m going home if you’re gonna keep on—”

He huffed, showing boredom by dismissing you with a wave of his hand. “Ah, fine. You’re boring. Continue the prayer, then.”

For one of two things; first, Sylus would never let you off easily. Every act of defiance would garner you a punishment. Second, he was a time bomb. You never knew when his most cruel intentions would come to show. He was a malefic being that wouldn’t give two shits about where he was as long as he was having fun at torturing your soul.

You should have known that when you chose to finish your prayer back at the pew. Sylus would simply not last long enough to just sit by your side in his apathy.

“Holy Father, please forgive us for our sins—”

He snorted in ill-humor. “Pitiful.”

And while you sat there looking up at the crucifix, Sylus’s hand was already sneaking its way under your skirt. His icy fingers traced your inner thighs until he reached your center, and that was when you finally grabbed his wrist to stop him with wide, scandalized eyes. Was anyone on the qui vive to see you right now?

“Sylus, for heaven’s sake,” you hissed, pulling his wrist away but his slender fingers were already coordinating motions against your clothed core. You had to look around in panic lest there be any unknown audience peeking from the shadows. Despite your refusal to submit, the contact was eliciting suppressed moans out of your parted lips. “Y-You’re insane. This isn’t the place.”

His smile was full of triumph and excitement, his right eye glowing ominously he spoke. “What makes it different?” he asked, raising your skirt and inserting his fingers inside your underwear. You had to press your lips together as soon as he started rubbing his fingers on your clit. “See, you enjoy the fuck out of it. I can see through your deepest desires, kitten. It’s telling me… ‘don’t stop’.”

Your palm was pressed on his chest while his other hand tried to spread your legs open. The very position you were in—leaned on the wooden bench, legs spread apart, and being fingered in the presence of God—you were certainly going to hell. This was going against your belief, having your chastity corrupted in arrant disgrace by a man who was the devil himself.

How exactly did you find yourself in this predicament? You came here to offer a quick prayer, not to be pressed on the bench by a man who was now unbuckling his belt in haste. You could only think of how Sylus, who was an angel beyond his demons, was perhaps trying to come out of being trapped in the dungeon where Satan had him caged.

“This is so wrong,” your lips quivered as you spoke, both of the curling of your toes and of the shameless sacrilegious act. You knew you couldn’t stop this no matter how hard you tried because Sylus would remain tenacious until he got what he wanted.

With that, you fully submitted yourself to him and let the back of your head rest on the wooden surface while you stared at the stained glass that roofed the cathedral in different hues.

Sylus was fast to display a smirk while positioning his hardened length on your entrance. The bands of your underwear were now resting mid-thigh as he pressed himself down on you with one knee supporting the angle of his hips. He was running his throbbing tip between your plump folds to lubricate himself with your slick. No screams could be released because you restrained your own whimpers, but your tears brimmed on the corner of your eyes from the initial penetration.

“Ngh!” Your nails dug deep on his forearms. “S-Sylus!”

“Are you crying?” His carmine eyes glinted of sadistic humor, running his gelid thumb across your lower lip only to sink it deep inside your mouth. “How does it feel knowing that the God you worship can’t save you?”

A tear slid down from your eyes to your temple as Sylus started moving his hips in an achingly slow rhythm, each thrust going deeper than the last. You almost bit his thumb before he released your mouth by gripping your wrist. “Sylus—someone could see—!”

To your irony, the crucifix stared down at you and enkindled your conscience from this sinful act. Father, forgive me. You could only whisper those words in your head because your mouth was too occupied in crying out Sylus’s name.

“So warm.” It was hard not to think of how attracted he looked when he raked his fingers through his hair, later meeting your eyes with overpowering lust. He didn’t hold back at burying his cock into your cavern, allowing your walls to fit his girth like tight gloves—the feeling garnering his raspy grunt. “You’re mine, sweetie. All mine.”

Sylus. You blinked your tears away as you closed your eyes. Sylus’s lips were now on your neck as he increased the pace of his member sliding in and out of your cunt with squelching noises that shamelessly echoed across the cathedral. “Sylus,” your lips were on his ear, “we’re in—aah—church.”

Unlike you, he was nonchalant about the sacredness of the house of God. He was mocking the supreme being that you held faith to as an act of engraving his existence into your mortal soul. While you restrained your moans as he slammed his pelvis against your hole, there was fulfillment rattling in his bones when he pressed your face to the side before diving in to suck on your sweet flesh.

“Cry more. Did you know your walls get warmer when you’re aroused?”

It was hard to describe the feeling. The median between pain and pleasure was the closest example you could liken it to. The grazing of his fangs added to the burning sensation that you had all over your body as if fire was ignited to light up all your nerves.

Your hand latched onto his shirt before his body collapsed on top of you. With your legs spread wide, his head hung low on your neck—still and unmoving, strangely like he had fallen asleep.

“Sylus.” You tapped his arm through the heavy rise and fall of your chest.

And before you could move away, he shot straight up and looked at you with those foxy incarnadine eyes that were now in the shade of deep crimson. Eyes that were wide and full of horror as he looked around the cathedral before he slowly realized what he had just done.

“Y/N,” he said your name regretfully, pulling your dress down to cover your exposed parts, “I’m so sorry. I’m sorry, I did this—? I don’t—”

Long dried were the tears on your cheek. As you two scrambled to fix your clothes, you pulled him into a hug while he murmured endless sorry’s to your ear. At least, for now he was back. That was the most important thing with all the sanity you had left.

“Just get me out of here, Sy,” you said, back into the arms of your human lover.

You’ve always wondered why Sylus often slept during the day. Or why his normal heartbeat was at the pace of someone who was having a heart attack. Or why he could get serious wounds but managed to heal himself fast. Sometimes he would disappear from your sight and transport himself into another. Sometimes he would see and hear things a thousand times clearer than any other person could.

For almost a year of dating, these questions only came up to you without much of an answer. You thought that you were simply theorizing over things that you shouldn’t. Why does Sylus always wear that cross around his neck? At the back of your head, you were always intrigued.

You didn’t find out about the real reason until two months ago when you finally met ‘Lucifer’ out of nowhere. If Sylus was Jekyll, Lucifer was his Hyde. It was his way to allow you to form a dissociation between the two beings in one body.

You never believed in devils until Sylus showed his demonic face to you one night while you were supposedly peacefully sleeping. You recalled the screams that you released when you found out that Sylus was the fallen angel all along. That the rosary around his neck was meant to seal his dark side, the side that you still didn’t know much of. Up until this day, he didn’t provide a concrete answer as to why he needed to seal himself. He was taciturn about the topic of his other self despite you bringing it up every now and then.

But because you loved him, trusted him, and believed him when he said that he didn’t plan to hurt you—you stayed. You knew his human side better than the monster within him, so you told yourself that you could stay for him. You just needed to learn more about him.

There were still moments where you felt cautious around him, but when you looked to see his softened expression, you were comfortable at seeing the Sylus that you knew.

“Y/N,” he broke the silence that lingered between you two as you walked around the city, “I’m sorry.”

You tugged at his hand in reassurance. “It’s okay, I just...” As flashbacks of the earlier events returned to your head, you felt ashamed at having done such dirty deeds at a holy place. “He always gets what he wants.”

Because you let him.

“I can’t do anything when I’m trapped,” Sylus mumbled, keeping up with your footsteps as you strode along the street.

Your curiosity bubbled from his statement. “What happens when he’s taking over?”

This time, Sylus didn’t shy away from giving an answer while he interlaced his hand with yours. “I can hear everything, but I can’t feel or see. It’s all black, like I’m in a dark void.”

“Like comatose?”

“You could say that.”

How could a rosary seal his other self? How come he had two versions of him?

“He’s obsessed with you,” he admitted, frowning at the thought as you passed rows and rows of boutiques and restaurants. “Your soul, your scent, your body. That’s probably why he always has the urge to come out.”

The thought of it permeated heat on your cheeks even when it shouldn’t. Sylus had always been sweet and loving with his intimacy with you, but his other side was rough and sadistic. He liked tormenting your innocence with his immorality.

“You said the rosary was meant to seal him, but how come he keeps on—”

“It doesn’t work these days. Only my father can help, but I don’t wanna go that far just to tell him about this.”

Father. It was the first time he had ever spoken about his father in your twelve months together. Or did he mean father as in God? “Where’s your father, Sylus? Or the rest of your family? Are the other archangels roaming on Earth, too?”

You could see it in his saintly face that he was about to give an answer and you anticipated it, not until the nearby catcalling distracted you two.

“Nice legs, gorgeous,” whistled the man who was leaning by the street railings with a cigarette in his hand. The man was probably in his mid-40’s with disheveled hair and unshaved face. You sent him a glare but a crude wink was returned.

“It’s a bit rude to ogle at my woman in front of me, don’t you think?” was Sylus’s warning, the tendrils of his black-red mist extending to surround the man.

You could hear the man hooting again, unaware of what would become of him. “Ha ha! You punk. I’d spread those legs in a heartbeat.”

While Sylus’s eyes were deepening into a darker hue, you knew you couldn’t risk seeing him release his demonic side again. It was a dangerous gamble. And the city could become a bloodbath. So, in your insistence, you told your lover to just leave it be.

“Sylus, let it go,” you gently asked, tugging at his arm softly. You wanted to avoid confrontation and just continue walking with you until you could reach your destination. “It’s okay.”

“Happy anniversary to my favorite couple!”

The clinking of glasses was followed by cheers on the booth where your boyfriend and your friends sat together. It was Avery’s idea to celebrate the special day two days prior as an excuse to hang out and drink. Luke and Kieran, being Sylus’s minions, were very much willing to join.

“It’s not until Wednesday,” Sylus corrected with a smile, sipping on his pint before putting an arm around you. He gestured towards Avery and Luke with a knowing look. “Now you two should date each other.”

You giggled at the thought. “Yeah, I totally support that.”

Instead, the two of them reacted heavily against it—faking a gag, making a face, name it all. They were adamant on showing how disgusted they were at the thought of dating each other and it was quite a hilarious sight to watch.

“Boss, come on,” Luke replied in outward distaste.

Avery, on one hand, was rolling her eyes. “You wish I was interested. I’d rather do Kieran than you.”

Kieran was Luke’s twin, the less obnoxious and more empathic one. But when those two were combined, their level of mischief wasn’t really any different from each other.

“Picking Kieran is the most insulting thing you can say to me,” huffed Luke, earning yours and Avery’s chuckle.

After an exchange of playful banter and teasing remarks, the conversation was redirected back to you and Sylus as Avery curiously brought up how you first met your boyfriend. It was only a year ago and the memory was still vivid in your head.

“Oh my God. I remember how Y/N first saw you at this auction,” she gushed towards your boyfriend while you blushed, gripping his arm closer, “and she’s acting like she just saw her soulmate.”

Kieran decided to chime in, “Boss was looking at her too, though. He may look tough, but he’s a hopeless romantic deep down—”

“Enough,” Sylus warned before sipping on his glass.

You rested your head on his shoulder and relaxed against him. “Next thing you guys know, we’re living together.”

Frankly, everything was normal until Sylus showed up.

“What do you like most about her, Sylus?” Avery egged on with a grin spreading on her face.

Your boyfriend didn’t even take a second to answer, “She’s cute like a cat,” he said, caressing your hand with his thumb from under the table, “and smart, and caring. Can get spicy, too. It won’t end.”

Sylus was the same, if not better. You didn’t have much experience when it came to dating, but you were surely on top of the luck department for being blessed with a man like him. He was the most protective person you knew, the most affectionate, the most thoughtful. Sylus was the moon that illuminated your dark nights. You could even remember how he would wait outside of your workplace to pick you up in his motorcycle—those were the little things that lasted for a lifetime in someone’s memory.

“She’s also a nun.”

The sudden panic in your eyes came simultaneous to the fast beating of your heart. You swiftly whipped your head to look at Sylus who was now displaying a deriding smirk across his pale face. Oh, were you doomed. The ruby eyes and the stony face was clear confirmation that the demon had taken over him. Twice in the same day.

Even Avery was surprised by his word of choice, but nonetheless found it amusing as it was rare for them to see Sylus acting bold. You were grateful for her obliviousness because you didn’t know how else you could explain the situation at hand.

“She’s a what, boss-man?” Luke jeered, chugging on his pint and looking at his boss in his newfound entertainment. He was among the very few people that knew Sylus’s true nature. Because the twins were demons like him.

“A nun,” Sylus answered, sending a look of mischief your way. You were deeply panicking that you had to squeeze his hand in hopes of stopping him from showing his true colors. “What? Don’t be shy, kitten. Didn’t we have fun in that church?”

You quickly shook your head and denied it in front of your friends. “We didn’t. Don’t believe him.”

Avery was unbelievably taken aback. “Wow,” she held back a chuckle, “I didn’t know Sylus has a vulgar mouth.”

The night carried on while the downpour engulfed the streets heavily. Your desperation to leave the dinner earlier than intended was solely because you weren’t comfortable at having Sylus around other people. The man was clearly enjoying the embarrassment that he was putting you through. And you, you were only being cautious. Who knew what things he could do to Avery while in his other form?

You didn’t want things to end up where Sylus would be ostracized by the people who knew him just because they couldn’t understand that he was completely harmless in his benevolent self.

It took a lot of effort to finally make an excuse of getting home early while the skies have temporarily calmed down. However, as you two strolled across the street, Sylus wouldn’t stop blabbering on and on about how you should have stayed more to talk about how prudish you were.

“I’m not in the mood right now,” you spoke in a detached voice, moving away from him as you walked together. Because you ruined it, you wanted to add. The cold breeze kissed your face through the dark.

Sylus only moved closer to you. “You shouldn’t be so uptight,” he countered, “Is that how kittens should act? Or do I punish you back at home?”

Punishments. You didn’t wish to go through another round of his ‘punishments’ because you weren’t certain at how creative he could be at delivering them. There was no doubt that a man who traversed the ages would have seen enough torture devices used during the earlier times. Perhaps he could get inspiration from those.

“I just wanna go home,” you muttered, almost inaudibly had his heightened hearing senses not worked.

“Good, then I can have fun with y—” Sylus halted from his words as his face froze at the sight in front of him. His body had completely gone stiff and his jaws were clenched. You would have thought that he was angry until that evil upturn of his lips came to show.

“Sylus...”

Following his sight, he was all eyes on a man from a distance before he dashed towards the stranger, leaving you utterly stupefied from where you stood. What’s he on about? You rushed as your heels landed in lightweight steps across the sidewalk while you watched in terror how Sylus mercilessly throttled the man by the neck and dragged him into a dark alleyway.

“Sylus, stop!”

As you reached him with a panting breath, you realized that the man he was holding high up against the wall was the same person that catcalled you earlier. The man was wriggling away from Sylus’s tight grip, only to be asphyxiated harsher than before.

“Wh-What’s your problem?” The man struggled to breathe due to the strangulation and you were pulling Sylus’s other arm to stop him.

At the sight of Sylus’s crimson eyes and vicious stance, you knew there was nothing much you could do to prevent harm. He was determined to do what he wanted without paying attention to his surroundings.

“You’re fantasizing her, huh?” Sylus taunted with a sinister undertone in his words. “You wanna spread ‘em open?”

Recalling the very words he spoke, the man saw you with frantic eyes as his face was reddening from the lack of oxygen. With a rushed shake of the head and a face that was begging for sympathy, he tried to break free. “N-No, no. She’s—haaa! She’s all yours.”

“Sylus, stop it.” You grabbed his arms and attempted your best to pull him away despite the trepidation that caused you goosebumps. “Please stop, you’re gonna kill him.”

Every time you saw this demonic creature, you were learning new things about him and most of those things were of the worst kind. Not only was he possessive—he was diabolical, potentially obsessive, and a cutthroat sadist who wouldn’t even blink before ending someone’s life. This was the true nature of a demon, not some silly fantasy that today’s pop-culture portrayed them to be.

He was a body without a soul.

Unfortunately, you should have thought twice before choosing to get involved with him.

“That’s my plan, sweetie.”

#sylus x reader #sylus x you #sylus x y/n #lads x reader #lads x you #lnds x reader #lds x reader #l&ds x reader #sylus smut #tw.dark content

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